


Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow

by 1Diamondinthesun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, First Time, Football Player Louis, Football | Soccer, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Partying, Photographer Harry, Pining, for corrections, lots of pining, updated 11/2/18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 84,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11513958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1Diamondinthesun/pseuds/1Diamondinthesun
Summary: Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panda_bear21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_bear21/gifts).



> for panda_bear21. Based on the prompt, "Louis is the captain of the football (soccer) team. Harry is enamored."
> 
> Title inspired by Fleetwood Mac's "Don't Stop" 
> 
> This fic would not have been possible without the guidance and support of my beautiful beta, britpickerhl. Cheers, my dear! 
> 
> All the love,
> 
> ~C

I.

 

“I think good dreaming is what leads to good photographs.”  
— Wayne Miller

 

 

Darkness was not the absence of light. Harry Styles knew this; darkness was its own entity. Harry could move around a darkroom alone late at night, and it felt as if his limbs were slicing through the mass of darkness, like treading through water. It was unlike anything he had ever felt. As a rule, Harry stumbled his way through life—tripping up and down stairs, over his own feet on the sidewalk, and through conversations in which he never felt at ease. But the darkroom was different.

In the darkroom of his school, Harry moved with ease. He knew where each instrument, tool, and solution were located, and his hands moved with skill and grace. Harry knew many of his classmates spent as little time as possible in the darkroom, having heard their conversations during class about how creepy and quiet it was. His best friend, Perrie described it as feeling like she was underwater, trapped under a layer of ice. Their professor, Mr. Swift, likened it to being in a suspended reality. At the beginning of the term, he had led the bright-eyed, nervous students in small groups into the darkroom and switched the lights off. Once inside, he walked them through the process of preparing the water, winding the film onto the spool, and bathing the film. Three students had dropped the class after that. But Harry was entranced.

Because here was something, although difficult, that Harry could do despite his social limitations. In the darkroom, patiently winding a roll of film onto a metal spool, it didn’t matter that he only had one friend. It didn’t matter that Harry skipped the school dances to make pizzas at home with his mom and watch movies on the couch. His lanky, slim appearance and unruly curls didn’t stand out in the darkroom like they did in the lunchroom. What mattered was the steadiness of his hands winding the film, and his patience to adjust the water to the perfect temperature of 68 degrees Fahrenheit. What mattered was his ability to breathe and stay sane while the clock ticked away the minutes that the film sat in a tumbler of solution in pitch dark. And instead of panicking, or dreading the darkroom, Harry thrived. It was the first time all day he felt totally at ease, and he could finally just be.

Harry had spent all day photographing images in the park, and although it was a Friday night, he was happily developing his film in the deserted photography lab. Professor Swift had given Harry the code to the classroom door when he realized how determined Harry was to develop his craft. So Harry came and went as he pleased.

Harry was enlarging a selection of prints from the park, humming softly under his breath. He adjusted the image on his film under the intense beam of light from the enlarger machine and dialed up the amount of light to distribute. That would determine how bright or dark the print turned out to be. He replayed the conversation he had had with his mother before coming to school that night as he carried the print to a series of trays on a large table. He dipped the print into the first tray of solution as he recalled the conversation.

“Where are you going, love?” his mom Anne had asked as she was drying the dishes from dinner. Of course, she knew where Harry was headed, but still asked.

“Headed to the lab,” Harry had said, grabbing a jacket on his way out.

“What’s Perrie up to tonight?”

Harry sighed. “Girl’s night. I think they’re at the movies.”

“Ah,” Anne replied. “You know, I was going to tell you. The school newsletter came today and they’re looking for students to join the newspaper. They might need a photographer.”

Harry’s stomach twisted uneasily at the thought. Spending time with the newspaper staff? Talking to all those people who had never spoken a word to him?

“Umm,” Harry began, and faltered.

“Just think about it, dear, ok?” she asked. “You don’t have to decide anything now.”

“Ok, thanks mom,” Harry agreed. He dropped a kiss to her cheek and turned toward the door. “Don’t wait up,” he joked, as always when he was going to the lab. Anne rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Don’t get into too much trouble. Have fun.”

In the photography lab, Harry smiled at the memory. His mom really was the best. Even if she sometimes pushed him out of his comfort zone to meet people, she meant well. Harry used a set of tongs to carefully move his print from the first tray of developer into a tray of water. The image on the page was still faint, but he could see the beginnings of a swing set and trees. He hoped Professor Swift liked this batch of pictures. A glance at the wall clock showed it was half past ten, and Harry shrugged. Not like he had anywhere important to be. He sighed and moved the print into the next tray. There was really no place he’d rather be.

*

“’There is one thing the photograph must contain, the humanity of the moment.’ Does anyone know who said this?” Professor Swift asked the next class day. Harry yawned from his seat, and Perrie poked him in the ribs. He cut his eyes over to her subtly only to find her frowning.

“Ansel Adams?” a student called from the back.

“Good guess, but no. Anyone else?” the professor asked.

“Harry,” Perrie hissed under her breath. Harry raised his eyebrows in silent expectation. “How late were you here last night?”

Harry bit his lip. The clock had read 2 am when he finally placed the last print into the drying rack and packed up his bag.

“Um.”

“Harry! You have to get some sleep,” Perrie whispered, cautiously eyeing the professor.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Harry said around a huge yawn.

“Yes, Mr. Styles? Do you have an answer?” the professor asked with a wry smile.

Harry thought back to the quote. “Robert Frank?”

“Correct! Very good,” the professor beamed. So Harry was the teacher’s pet, much to his embarrassment. But on the other hand, it was cool to be someone’s favorite. Harry suspected he wasn’t anyone else’s favorite person. He would take what he could get.

Professor Swift lectured a while longer about capturing humanity in photographs, and as always Harry took careful notes. That was something Harry struggled with, adding humanity into his photos. Namely because he was shy, but also because there were only so many times he could ask to photograph his mom and Perrie. Not like he had a long list of friends lining up to be photographed. So Harry mostly stuck to landscapes and still life photos instead. Maybe one day when he was grown up, people would be seeking him out to have their pictures taken. For now, though, he stuck with what was available.

After the professor dismissed the class, Harry said bye to Perrie until lunch. He was packing up his bag when Professor Swift turned to him.

“Ah, Harry. How goes the senior project?”

Harry swallowed down a lump of panic in his throat. He hadn’t forgotten the project; he obsessed over it even in his sleep. But there was just so much depending on the success of his project. Namely, the prospect of scholarships to the art schools Harry had been dreaming about since middle school.

“It’s, um. Going, I guess,” Harry began cautiously. “Would you like to see my latest photos?”

The professor smiled and adjusted his cuffed sleeves. “I’d love to, Harry. Let’s take a look.”

Harry opened his bag and carefully pulled out the prints he had finished last night. He spread them out on the professor’s desk and held his breath.

Harry watched the professor’s reaction as he considered the work. First he raised his eyebrows, then nodded. That was a good sign, right? Before Harry could sigh in relief, Professor Swift frowned.

“This is technically very good work, Harry, as always. You certainly have an eye for detail. But if you’ll think back to our lesson today, I’m really looking for humanity in your art. Warmth, color. Search committees for the big art schools will be looking for the same thing. Really consider adding some warmth to these photos.”

Harry’s stomach sank. It was nothing he didn’t already know, but to hear it out loud, and in the context of potential art schools, hurt.

As if reading his mind, the professor continued. “Now don’t despair. Obviously you’re very talented. You just need to breathe some new life into your work. That’s what I’d like to see in your next photos, ok?”

Harry felt numb, but nodded robotically. “Thank you, professor. I won’t let you down.” Harry gathered the rejected prints into his arms and stumbled out of the classroom. His first instinct was to text Perrie, but just then something caught his eye. It was a flyer posted on the bulletin board advertising the school newspaper.

_Attention students! Are you a people person, friendly, and looking for a challenge? Are your Instagram photos getting hundreds of likes? The school newspaper is now accepting applications for go-getters to be writers and photographers for The Jackson Journal. See Professor James to sign up today!_

Harry thought back to his conversation with his mom recently, and thought about the prospect of going home today to an empty house with no plans. That, coupled with the sting of rejection from his professor, moved Harry’s feet in the direction of the journalism classroom.

*

Harry paused in the open doorway of the journalism classroom, clutching the flyer in his now-sweaty hand. Inside, a professor Harry didn’t recognize was reading something at her desk, and a few students were crowded around a boy holding an iPhone. Leaning against the teacher’s desk was Liam Payne, someone Harry finally recognized.

Liam was tall, broad-shouldered, and always smiling. Teachers loved him for his good grades, and students loved him for his legendary house parties. Even Harry acknowledged he was the perfect student body president. And apparently, a member of the Jackson Journal. Sensing someone standing in the doorway, Liam paused his conversation with the professor and turned to look. His pleasant face broke out into a smile, although it was clear he didn’t recognize Harry.

“Hey, man! How can I help you?” Liam asked, crossing the classroom. The other students all turned to look at the visitor.

Harry’s eyes widened in mild panic. It was the same reaction he got when teachers called on him in class. His mind went blank, and his heart raced. Once he had actually forgotten his own name.

In response to Liam, who was standing politely in front of him, Harry nervously held out the crumpled yellow flyer.

Liam smiled. “Oh, awesome! Are you here to join the team? What’s your name?”

Harry bit his lip. “I’m Harry. Styles.” He could feel everyone’s eyes on him now.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. I’m Liam, and we’re the Jackson Journal.” Liam extended a hand for Harry to shake. He took it cautiously and shook hands.

“So are you a writer, or…?” Liam asked, gesturing for Harry to step inside the classroom.

“Um. Photographer?” Harry replied, and to his embarrassment it came out like a question. Liam didn’t seem to mind.

“Excellent! Professor James was just telling me we needed a good photographer.”

Harry cut his eyes tentatively to the professor, who was rising from her desk. She was wearing a button up and slacks, like Professor Swift, but she had paired it with a vest that had cats on it. Her earrings were little cat faces as well. But she was smiling as she approached.

“Welcome! Did Liam say you were a photographer? I’m Professor James.”

Harry shook her extended hand and forced a smile. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Lovely to meet you too, Harry. Are you new here?”

A student snickered behind her back, and Harry’s cheeks flushed red. But she paid it no mind.

“No…I just don’t get out much,” Harry admitted.

Professor James appraised him with warm brown eyes, and then smiled. “Well, we’re glad you came our way. Do you have some photos you could show us, just as a formality?”

Harry was glad for once he still had his failed photography project in his bag. He nodded and pulled them out.

Professor James took them carefully and stared thoughtfully at the photos. She raised her eyebrows, and then nodded. “These are very good, Harry,” she announced warmly.

The students behind her crowded around her to glimpse Harry’s photos as well. Harry wished he could fall into a crack in the floor and disappear, but he held it together.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking at his feet.

The professor smiled, and then seeing the students hovering over her, she laughed. “Well don’t just stand there; introduce yourself to our new photographer!”

Harry watched wide eyed as the journalism students spoke. Harry met Jade, Ed, Niall, and Zayn, but he couldn’t keep track of what functions they performed for the paper. And then there was of course, Liam, who hadn’t stopped smiling since Harry walked in.

“As the editor of the paper, let me officially welcome you to the Jackson Journal,” Liam grinned. “We’re a little weird—“

“A lot weird,” Jade murmured under her breath.

“…but we’re glad you’re here. Welcome!” Liam concluded his speech, and Harry dared a glance at the new faces in front of him. There was the professor’s cat vest, and Liam’s bright smile, and Jade’s pink hair. He was still nervous, but surprisingly, he felt excited. And proud of himself for coming to the journalism classroom. His mom and Perrie would be proud.

“Thanks, guys,” Harry replied with a shy smile.

“So! When can you start?” Professor James quipped, and the class laughed along with her. Maybe Harry’s day was finally turning around.

*

Harry’s first assignment with the Journal was to cover the first soccer game of the season. As predicted, his mom and Perrie were floored he had volunteered. That night, Anne had taken Harry out to his favorite Thai restaurant to celebrate. She couldn’t stop beaming.

“I’m just so proud of you, Harry. And you’re going to do wonderful work for them, I know,” she said over a shared order of spring rolls. Harry ducked his head and smiled.

“You have to say that because you’re my mom.”

Anne rolled her eyes. “No, I have to say that because it’s true! So tell me more about this game.”

Harry shrugged and told her what Professor James had said that day. It was the first game of the season, and the Jackson Jaguars were playing their rivals from the next town. It was apparently a big deal. Harry had never been to a soccer game in his whole high school career, so he didn’t even know if the school team was any good. All he knew was the time and place of the match. And Professor James had given him a name to pay attention to: Louis Tomlinson.

Of course Harry knew about Louis Tomlinson; the whole school did. The captain of the soccer team, student body vice president, and most popular boy in school; coincidentally, also Liam Payne’s best friend. They ruled the school, as lame as it sounded to Harry. Louis was the flip side to Liam’s polite, composed nature. He was known to be loud, outgoing, and likely to talk back to teachers. He was supposedly dating the head cheerleader, and already had a sports scholarship lined up after graduation. Harry had seen him in the halls and the lunchroom, and Louis always seemed larger than life. He always had a crowd following him and wanting to sit at his table, and he seemed to bask in the attention. Harry couldn’t imagine someone more different than himself.

So Louis was the one to watch at the game, and Harry frowned involuntarily every time he thought about the assignment. But he wanted to make a good first impression with the professor and his classmates, so Harry was determined to do his best. He stayed after class the next day in photography to ask his teacher for tips about photographing moving subjects. Professor Swift had recommended a faster film speed and shutter speed on Harry’s camera.

Harry had begged Perrie to go to the game with him, but she was going out of town with her parents that weekend and couldn’t go. The thought of showing up to the game alone, and awkwardly standing on the sidelines with his camera, made Harry feel even more nervous. But he had his own team to make proud, so Harry wasn’t backing down.

Saturday, the day of the soccer game, was a crisp autumn day. The leaves were changing and slowly drifting down from the towering oaks on the school campus. It was the perfect day to take his camera out and explore the town. But today Harry was limited to the soccer fields.

Harry dressed in a basic grey sweater and faded jeans with his converse sneakers, and grabbed a jacket as an afterthought. He considered himself in the mirror of his room, analyzing the wild brown curls, anxious green eyes, and pale skin he saw there. Nothing special, he thought, although Perrie claimed he was simply adorable. He was more concerned about his camera though. On loan from the school, Harry’s camera was a Nikon FM. It retailed for more than Harry could ever afford, although he had been saving for a while now. He hoped to buy the camera from the school at the end of the year, since he had bonded so well with it already. Harry just hoped Cherry (of course he had named the camera) was up for the challenge of the game that day. He carefully inserted the new roll of film and adjusted the settings on the camera so it could capture moving subjects, like soccer players. He packed the camera gingerly into his hand-me-down bag and headed out the door.

A crowd was already gathering in the bleachers as Harry arrived at the field. He recognized some of his fellow students, many of which he didn’t know by name. Harry saw Niall from the school paper dressed in the school colors of green and silver, with his face painted elaborately. Niall broke into a grin when he saw Harry and waved him over.

“Hey there, Styles! Here for your first assignment?” Niall boomed over the voices chattering in the bleachers. Several people turned to stare inquisitively, and Harry blushed. All he could manage was a nod. Niall smiled and patted him on the back.

“Keep you eye on Tommo and you can’t go wrong. He’s the one to watch, always puts on a good show.”

“Tommo?” Harry frowned.

Niall laughed and nodded. “Louis Tomlinson, our captain.”

“Oh captain, my captain!” Zayn exclaimed from beside Niall, and Harry hadn’t even noticed he was there. Zayn was dressed in a black leather jacket and skinny jeans with a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Niall burst out laughing at Zayn.

“Don’t mind the future English major, Harry,” he replied. “Zayn is just a little cynical about sports.”

“But you’re writing an article about the game?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“Yeah, man. Soccer, basketball, arts and crafts, talent shows; you name it, and I’ve covered it,” Zayn explained with a wry smile. “Sports just aren’t my thing, and Niall knows this.”

Beside him, Niall patted Zayn on the back. “He’s just mad that soccer doesn’t have cheerleaders.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and studied Zayn, who was rolling his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Harry. Just have fun and take some awesome pictures, and you’ll be fine.” Harry nodded obediently.

“Hey!” Niall said as an afterthought, “you should come with us to Mary’s diner after the game, when we win. It’s tradition.”

“He means _if_ we win,” Zayn interjected.

“ _When_ we win, Zayn,” Niall said emphatically, “we will go to Mary’s and I’ll buy you a milkshake.”

Zayn shrugged. “Deal. But I want strawberry, with whipped cream.” Niall just laughed.

“Guess I better…” Harry trailed off uncertainly, pointing toward the sidelines where a few players were standing together stretching.

“Go for it, Harry. Have fun!” Niall cheered. Harry smiled weakly, his nerves finally getting the better of him, and trudged to the sidelines.

Harry could feel eyes on him, and knew that several students were watching curiously as he opened his bag and took out his camera. He focused on fine-tuning the settings to adjust to the bright sunlight on the field. Then he had nothing to do, until the game started, and Harry felt like he was going to itch out of his skin. He pulled out his phone and pretended to have something to do. There were no new messages from Perrie or his mom. But Harry opened the conversation with Perrie and typed,

_At the game. Save me please!_

Harry waited as the little grey dots symbolized Perrie was writing back.

 _Good luck! You’ll do great!_ She typed, and added a thumbs up emoji. Harry smiled.

A voice behind Harry startled him, and he almost dropped his phone.

“Hey man, game’s about to start. Are you our new photographer?”

Harry turned to reply, halfway frowning already, and then saw who was speaking. Harry’s jaw went slack, and his eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. All he could think was _blue_ and _tiny_ and _omigod._

Louis Tomlinson was standing right in front of him, and time just stood still for Harry.

He took in the wispy caramel hair, tanned skin, and amused blue eyes of the boy and was dumbfounded. For all the times Harry had seen Louis in the halls, nothing prepared him for the moment that his undivided attention was placed on Harry. It was just. A lot.

“I…” Harry stammered, and then blushed. “Yes. Photographer. Me.”

Oh god. Could Harry just drop dead already and spare the embarrassment radiating off him in waves? Please?

Louis just grinned and nodded. “Great! Thank you. Just try to keep up!” then he jogged onto the field. It was a moment before Harry could snap out of it, and when he did, he slowly raised the camera to his face and mechanically snapped a photo of Louis’ retreating figure. He absolutely didn’t stare at the way Louis’ lithe body moved in his crisp green uniform. It was going to be a long day.

*

Despite his overwhelming nerves and his humiliating conversation with _the_ Louis Tomlinson, Harry learned some important things in a short period of time. He learned, for example, that the players weren’t to touch the ball with their hands, or try to knock one another down. He learned about penalty kicks and why they occur. He even learned that when a goal is scored, the people in the stands go absolutely wild. (The first time the crowd erupted behind Harry, he almost dropped his camera.)

Harry also learned why Niall insisted he watch “Tommo” play, and why Louis had teased him about keeping up. Simply put, Louis moved like a bullet on the field. Harry had never seen anyone tear up and down a field with such confidence and grace. Besides his obvious skill with the ball, Louis just exuded confidence. Harry had never seen anything like it. From the way Louis spoke to his teammates in a huddle, to calling out plays on the field, to the way he would pat a teammate on the back when he fumbled the ball, Louis commanded attention. And he was just so fast. Harry got the impression that he did it without really trying; Louis was just that talented. And of course, to Harry’s slight annoyance, the camera loved Louis. It seemed that every shot was framed perfectly in the fading afternoon sunlight, or that Louis’ hair was falling just the right way every time Harry snapped a picture. To be fair, Harry tried to get action shots of the rest of the Jaguars team, but it was like his camera gravitated towards Louis.

Everything Harry knew about soccer, he had read on Wikipedia the night before, so he was a little surprised to glance at his phone and see how much time had passed. All things considered, the game was interesting. His team was winning, and the sun was warming his back, and he was imagining what the food at Mary’s diner tasted like.

Of course, that was the moment Harry took a rogue ball to the head.

It was like one moment, he was focusing the zoom of his camera on the opposite team captain, and there was a hush in the crowd, and everything was fine—and then the next moment, Harry was on the ground, lights out.

He had no idea how long he had been out, but when Harry came to, he noticed a few important things. First, he realized the crowd was completely quiet; a few voices murmured softly in the stands, but Harry couldn’t make out what they were saying. Next, he felt a strong beam of sunlight on his face, and his eyes blinked open slowly. And then finally, he looked up to see eleven boys in green uniforms and two coaches hovering over him with concern etched in their faces. At the forefront was Louis Tomlinson, of all people, and when Harry met his eyes, he yelled over his shoulder, “He’s awake!”

Harry was dimly aware the crowd was clapping politely, and that the rest of the players were beginning to disperse from the huddle around Harry. But all Harry could focus on was Louis’ face. In his still blurry vision, Harry could make out the electric blue of Louis’ eyes, squinted in concern, and the way a lock of hair was curling slightly at the side of his head. When Louis spoke finally, Harry forgot how to breathe.

“Oops.”

Louis smiled guiltily and continued, “I kicked that ball and it went straight for your head, man. I’ve never seen anyone go down so hard. I’m really sorry.”

Harry could only blink in confusion. He opened his mouth to speak, and to his further embarrassment, all that came out was a gravelly, “Hi.”

But Louis just grinned and offered Harry a hand to help him up. Harry reached out a wobbly hand and felt Louis grip it in his own. Slowly, Harry sat up. That was the moment the pain set in in the back of his head. _Don’t throw up, don’t throw up,_ Harry chanted over and over again in his mind.

“Easy there, go slow,” Louis said patiently. Harry felt himself blushing, but slowly staggered to a standing position. He didn’t realize Louis was still holding his hand until the boy gently let go.

“Good. Now where’s your camera?” Louis asked.

Oh god. Where _was_ Harry’s camera? He had been so amazed by Louis’ proximity that he had forgotten all about Cherry. Guilt flooded Harry, and he frantically looked around the grass. Louis spotted it first, though.

“Here we go,” he said, handing the camera gingerly to Harry. If Harry had been less concerned about the camera and still watching Louis, he would have seen the other boy bite his lip nervously. Maybe he was thinking the same thing Harry was—that this was going to be an expensive accident if the camera was broken.

Harry appraised the camera with steady hands now, inspecting the lens and the various functions. To his amazement, everything seemed to be fine. He wiped a smudge of dirt off the side of the camera and then looked up at Louis. Harry smiled in relief.

“She’s fine,” Harry replied. Then he blushed, because he had definitely referred to his camera  as a she. But Louis didn’t seem to mind; he let out a sigh of relief. Louis placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and the touch set butterflies moving in Harry’s stomach.

“Sorry again, really. But I better get back to the game,” Louis said apologetically. Harry nodded mechanically, slightly dizzy from the blow to the head and Louis’ warm touch.

“Ok,” Harry smiled weakly. When Louis withdrew his hand and turned to jog back onto the field, he flashed Harry a smile in farewell. Then he was gone.

Alone on the sideline again, Harry felt slightly buzzed. His head throbbed though, and he could once again feel the crowd’s eyes on him as he fiddled with his camera. Who knew soccer was such a dangerous sport?

Harry was saved from his embarrassment by the appearance of Niall and Zayn, who approached Harry with anxious faces. Niall reached him first.

“Ok, Styles? That ball went straight to your head!”

Harry blushed at the recent memory, beginning to suspect he would never live this down. “I’m ok, thanks.”

“Man, you went down like…like, a rock,” Zayn said, clearly still in awe. “Guess it’s a good thing you never saw it coming.”

Harry groaned and held his head in his hands. “Yeah, good thing.”

“Aww, cheer up man. The game’s almost over, and we’re clearly gonna win. Then we can go get food and celebrate. I’m starving,” Niall added as an afterthought.

Harry had forgotten his promise to go to the diner with Niall and Zayn. Suddenly, the thought of being in the same room as Louis and all his rowdy teammates sounded like an anxiety attack waiting to happen. It must have shown on Harry’s face, because Zayn studied him carefully.

“Ni, Harry may want to go home and lay down for a while,” Zayn offered, smiling briefly at Harry’s relieved expression.

Niall looked between the two and then nodded. “Oh, true. You know, Tommo’s mom is a nurse; I’m sure she would be glad to take a look at your head if you want.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. “No! I mean, no thanks. I probably don’t have a concussion.”

Niall laughed good-naturedly and turned to go back to his seat. “Good man. We’ll see you later then?”

“Sure, thanks you guys,” Harry replied, pasting on a smile. Zayn considered Harry for another moment, as if he could read Harry’s mind, then shrugged and followed Niall back to the stands.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the field, where the game was winding down. Scanning across the sweaty, sun-kissed faces of the players, Harry met Louis’ eyes. Harry froze, unsure of whether or not he should wave or smile. Louis smiled slightly and opened his mouth as if he was about to speak, but just then a teammate called his name. Louis’ attention snapped back to his teammate, and the moment was over.

Harry felt disappointment settle in his stomach, and it was unfortunately a familiar feeling. Was Harry the only one who felt like this? He wondered. It was the same feeling he got on Friday nights when he had no plans and stayed in watching movies or hid out in the school darkroom. It was the feeling of several birthdays spent with just his mom and Perrie, trying to put on a brave face when he was feeling completely alone. It was the feeling of waving Perrie off to her junior prom with her date, a nice enough guy from her Chem class, while Harry went back into his empty house for the night. He had heard it said his teenage years were the best years of his life, and Harry was sincerely doubting that.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of a whistle blowing, and a loud cheer from the bleachers. Harry focused on the field in front of him, and caught the moment Louis shook hands with the other team captain on film. The Jaguars had won, just as Niall predicted, and the stands were emptying out. Harry guessed everyone was headed to the diner to get a good seat. He sighed and began packing up his camera, checking his phone as well. There was one message from Perrie:

_How’s the game going?_

Harry pocketed his phone, feeling uneasy. He would have to tell Perrie about the catastrophe at the game before she heard it at school Monday, and then he would have to tell her he spoke to Louis Tomlinson. For some reason, that was just not a conversation he was up to having right now. A glance at the field showed it was nearly empty. Harry double checked everything was stored safely in place, then waved goodbye to Niall and Zayn. He turned to make the long walk home, when a voice stopped him.

“Hey, are you sure you’re ok?”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and he took a moment to compose himself before he turned around. Because there, in all his post-game glory, was a slightly sweaty, grass-stained Louis Tomlinson. Harry felt an actual pang to his heart. Louis was standing with a hand on one hip, waiting for Harry’s answer.

“I…yeah, I’m fine. Thank you,” Harry managed to stammer out.

Louis smiled in relief, and nodded. “Good.”

Harry smiled nervously and nodded back, turning to leave before he embarrassed himself further. Again, Louis’ voice stopped him.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name!”

For some reason, that was the blow that really took Harry down. A ball to the head and a mild concussion had nothing on the fact that Louis didn’t even know his name, much less had no idea they had gone to high school together now for three years. Harry felt tears sting his eyes. When he opened his mouth to speak, he felt a lump in his throat. He realized this was the first and last time he would ever speak to Louis Tomlinson, and that hurt.

“Nobody important.” Harry said, briefly meeting Louis’ confused blue eyes. Then, saying a silent goodbye, Harry turned and left the field. He did not look back.

*

As predicted, the conversation with Perrie the next day was eventful. Her face expressed variations of pride, worry, and then horror as Harry recounted the events leading up to the accident at the soccer field. The only good news was, according to google Harry didn’t have a concussion. None of the symptoms applied to Harry’s situation, although his ego was definitely wounded.

They were camped out in Harry’s room, eating Doritos as they compared weekends. Perrie was sprawled out sideways on Harry’s blue duvet, thoughtfully twirling a long strand of blond hair around her fingers. In the fading sunlight streaming in from the window, her nose and ear piercings glittered. Her next venture she was saving up for was a tattoo, and she was determined to get matching ones with Harry. He was not enthused, to say the least.

“So let me get this straight,” Perrie sighed. “Louis Tomlinson, soccer captain and most popular guy in school, asked your name, and you said…?”

“Nobody important.”

“Oh my god, Harry. Oh my GOD. Are we living in a teen romance movie?!” Perrie groaned and buried her face in a pillow. Her muffled voice continued, “What if that was your one chance to talk to him?”

Harry blushed, but shrugged. “Then at least I was honest.”

Perrie raised her head a fraction from the pillow, and her expression softened. “Oh babe, you know that’s not true. You’re amazing! He would be lucky to be your friend.”

Harry sighed and smiled slightly. “Thanks, Perrie. Really, have I ever told you you’re my best friend?”

Perrie beamed and reached over to tackle Harry for a hug. “Aww, best friends! This is why we need the tattoos!”

Harry gave her a gentle shove. “And the moment is over.”

“Whatever, you love me.”

“Maybe a little,” Harry grinned. Perrie threw her pillow at Harry’s face in response.

“Love you too, dork. Now, tell me about this newspaper gig that you are not quitting and definitely going back to on Monday.”

Harry shook his head fondly and fell back against the pillows. Tomorrow was another day, after all.

*

Sometimes Harry wondered if his life really was a movie. He imagined everyone he knew was part of a cast like in _The Truman Show_ , secretly watching him. Ok, it probably wasn’t that big of a conspiracy; he was just a high schooler trying to survive and go to art school. Harry wove his way through the sea of students on Monday trying to get to his locker before the bell rang. He had the roll of film from the soccer game in his pocket, and planned to work on developing it during lunch.

Harry dodged other sleep-deprived classmates and made it to his locker. He hung up his messenger bag and camera bag, grabbed his books, and sighed. He really, really needed a good day.

Harry closed his locker and clicked the lock back in place, lost in thought. The sound of someone clearing his voice beside him made him frown. No one ever talked to Harry in the halls. He turned his head toward the voice and almost dropped his books.

It was Louis Tomlinson.

And it was simply too much to process; the way his hair was swept to the side, and his tan, and the blue sweater that brought out his eyes. Harry just froze. In the silence, Louis took a deep breath, and spoke.

“Your name is Harry Styles. You’re a senior, and you work on the paper with Liam and Niall. You’re the best photographer they’ve had in years, and you like to keep to yourself.”

If Harry’s jaw dropped, who could blame him?

“I…” he began, but was at a loss for words. Louis continued as if he hadn’t even spoken.

“You’ve gone here all four years, and you want to go to art school. I don’t like mysteries, Styles.”

Harry frowned, and couldn’t help the blush that rose in his cheeks. “You…how?”

Louis smiled guiltily for the first time since he started speaking. “Niall is a bit of a chatterbox once you’ve gotten a few burgers and milkshakes in him.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to kill him.”

Louis shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

Before Harry could come up with a witty response, Louis turned to leave. He called over his shoulder then, “Have a great day, Styles,” and then he was gone.

Harry stood in the nearly-deserted hallway, mouth agape. What the hell? He had more questions than he could process at the moment, but one stood in the forefront of his mind: why had Louis Tomlinson asked about him anyway?

*

Most of the morning passed in a blur for Harry. During class lectures and walking the busy halls, he replayed the conversation with Louis. Harry felt as though something was left unspoken, although he had no idea what he could have said. One minute Louis was standing there by Harry’s locker, and the next he was gone. Harry resisted the urge to look for Louis in the halls between classes; he kept his head down as usual. But he imagined Louis’ words would stick with him for the rest of his life. Even the tone of Louis’ voice, slightly high and articulate, stuck in Harry’s mind.

_I don’t like mysteries, Styles._

Well, he certainly was a mystery in and of himself, Harry grumped to himself. Showing up out of nowhere, talking to Harry at the soccer game; who was this kid? Harry sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day and carefully retrieved his camera bag from his locker. While the rest of his classmates headed to lunch, Harry wove through the crowd in the opposite direction toward the photography lab.

Harry keyed in the passcode on the lab door and entered. As predicted, the room was empty. He suspected Professor Swift was at lunch in the teacher’s lounge. All the better; Harry had not had time to work on his senior project over the weekend, and didn’t want to show up to see the professor empty handed.

Harry dropped his bags on a secondhand corduroy couch, pulled the roll of film out of his jeans pocket and walked into the darkroom. He left the red light switched on in the room as he filled a pitcher with tap water and placed a thermometer inside. When the water reached the desired temperature, he could begin. If he was honest, Harry was a little nervous about how this roll would turn out. For once, it wasn’t just a project for his eyes only; his new teammates at the Journal and Professor James would see these, and then eventually the whole student body. No pressure. Harry ran a distracted hand through his hair and bit his lip. He checked the water temperature, and added a little more warm water to the pitcher. Almost there. He made sure everything he needed was on the table to his right: the spool for the film, a pair of scissors, the tumbler for the film to soak in. Harry relaxed a little as the routine set in.

When it was time to open the film canister and wind it on the spool, Harry turned off the red light, plunging him into darkness. He felt the tense muscles in his back relax immediately, and he breathed a deep sigh. The stress of the morning slowly melted away. He set the timer for the film to soak and leaned against the table in the darkness. He briefly wondered what this said about him, that this was the best part of his day.

Since it was just lunch hour, Harry would only have time to process the film negatives. He could finish making the prints after school. When the film had completed the soaking process, Harry carefully removed it from the tumbler and began cutting the negatives into strips. He inspected each frame as he went; for the most part, his faster film and shutter speed had captured the moving soccer players with few blurs. That was good.

Harry left the strips of negatives to dry in the lab, grabbed his bags, and headed back to his locker to get ready for class. He decided to make a detour on his way and stopped by the journalism classroom, hoping Professor James was back from lunch. Harry wasn’t used to working on other people’s deadlines, so he wanted to check with her to see when his photos would be due.

Harry was about to round the corner when he heard two familiar voices having a hushed conversation. Harry recognized Liam Payne’s smooth baritone and Louis Tomlinson’s higher, reedy voice. He had a split second to make a decision; stay, and hear what he could of the conversation, or turn the corner and announce himself. Harry was absolutely not the type to eavesdrop; he had no idea what had gotten into himself today. But he stood just behind the corner and held his breath. Mere feet away, he could make out Liam’s voice.

“…is why you have to decide soon, Tommo. I hate to side with your mother…”

Here Louis muttered something under his breath which Harry could not catch.

“…but she’s right. What are you going to choose?”

“I honestly don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you!” Louis huffed.

“You’re my best friend, but…can’t decide that for you,” Liam replied patiently.

Louis’ answer was a deep sigh and something mumbled, and Harry only caught the end:

“…just don’t know what to do.”

Just then, the bell rang, and Liam and Louis abruptly stopped talking. Harry heard them mumbling their goodbyes, and a “good luck” from Liam. Then he heard footsteps approaching.

Harry’s eyes widened in panic as he realized he was about to be caught eavesdropping, and he quickly turned the corner toward Professor James’ classroom. He collided hard with a taller, muscled body, and heard a surprised “oof.”

Harry dropped everything, and his bag and loose papers spread across the entire hall. He met Liam’s eyes, and quickly apologized.

“Hey there, man! No worries,” Liam said with a strained smile. It appeared his conversation with Louis had taken a toll on his nerves. But Liam bent down and began scooping up spare papers and a few rogue rolls of film for Harry.

“On your way to see Professor James?” Liam guessed, handing a pile of papers to Harry.

“Um. Yeah,” Harry admitted. “You?”

“Just came from there, and then I got caught talking to…a friend. Anyway, um. How did the photos turn out from the game? We’re all excited to see them!” Liam concluded with a slightly more genuine smile.

“I developed the negatives over lunch, so I can finish it all tonight. I think they turned out ok,” Harry said, and just like that his nerves returned.

“I bet they’re great, Harry!” Liam assured Harry. “Hey, I better get to class, but I’ll catch up with you later, ok?” Liam finally stood and waited for Harry to stash everything back in his bag.

“Sure, Liam. Thank you,” Harry replied. He waved Liam off as he left. Alone in the hallway now, Harry took a moment to review what had just occurred. Liam and Louis had been discussing something stressful that Louis had to decide upon, but Harry had no idea what it was. He had never heard either boy sound so tired and unsure about something though. Liam and Louis were the epitome of confidence and composure; what were they worrying about?

Harry realized he had enough problems of his own to worry about; he was late for class, and still had to talk to the professor about his deadline. Oh, and he also had one friend in the whole world, not counting his mother. So yeah, Harry had enough on his plate to worry about. He shook his head and walked into the journalism classroom, trying to clear his mind.

Harry found Professor James alone at her desk, perusing the local newspaper. Harry knocked timidly on the doorframe, and she looked up over her glasses. Today, she was wearing a long dress over her standard button up shirt, something purple and paisley printed that reminded Harry of his grandmother’s couch. But the professor smiled warmly when she saw Harry.

“Hello, Harry! What can I do for you?” she asked, rising from her desk.

“Hi, Professor,” Harry replied. “I wanted to let you know I’m working on the photos from the game Saturday.”

“Oh wonderful! How prompt! Last year Greg always waited till the last moment to print them,” the professor admitted.

“I did want to ask you when they’re due, though,” Harry explained.

“Could you have them ready for me to review by Wednesday evening?” she asked.

“No problem,” Harry said with a relieved sigh.

“Are you sure? I imagine you have a lot on your plate right now, Harry. You know I spoke to Professor Swift, and he had the best things to say about you, dear. So complimentary of your work.”

Harry blushed and looked down at his scuffed converse. “Thank you, I, um. Try my best,” Harry replied shyly. “But I still have a long way to go on my senior project,” Harry admitted, having no idea why he was sharing this with the professor. But it felt good to get it out. “Apparently I don’t infuse enough heart into my photos.”

There was a thoughtful pause as Professor James processed what Harry had just said. “Hmm,” she replied, as if weighing her words carefully. “I’m sure even the best photographers struggle with that sometimes. But I have a feeling you’ll get it in the end. Just don’t give up, ok? You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Harry felt tears sting his eyes, oddly, at the comforting words the professor spoke. It was nothing his mother or Perrie hadn’t told him before, but for some reason, hearing it from someone he wanted to impress made an impact.

“I. Thank you, Professor,” Harry replied in a wobbly voice.

“Anytime,” she smiled warmly. “Now, do you need an excuse for your next class? Where are you headed?”

“Ugh…AP Bio,” Harry remembered with a frown. “And no thanks, it’ll be ok.”

“I’ll see you on Wednesday then?” the professor asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Harry smiled. He said goodbye to the professor and headed to class, still feeling encouraged by her kind words. Maybe he would make it after all.

*

Later that evening found Harry back in the photography lab at school. He had eaten a quick dinner with his mother, grabbed his bag, and headed to school. He had been carefully enlarging some of the best negatives for about half an hour, and now he was developing them into prints.

Harry watched as print after print bloomed to life before his eyes; he never got tired of this part. It was like magic, watching an image sharpen and contrast into something real. Harry was working on one of his favorite prints so far, a shot of the Jaguars in a team huddle. The afternoon sunlight had been the perfect shade to highlight the numbers on their jerseys and the stripes down the sides of their shorts. One jersey in particular stood out to Harry, and he knew it was one the student body would be excited to see: number 28. Louis Tomlinson, number 28, stood in the huddle, but was pointing into the distance as he described an upcoming play. He was turned away from the camera, but the faces Harry could see were all listening intently to their captain.

Harry moved the print from one tray to another, watching it develop into something he hoped the Jackson Journal could use. When it was finished, he carefully clipped it to the clothesline where his other prints were drying. There were already a few complete ones. There was a photo of the team standing at the sideline, hands on their hearts as the national anthem played; another photo showed a player from the rival team attempting to steal the ball from one of the Jaguars; and finally, there was an action shot of Louis kicking a penalty shot. Harry knew just enough about the game now and about aesthetics in general to know his form was perfect. He had a feeling that shot would make the school paper, but he was no expert.

By the time Harry finished with the prints and then cleaned up the trays and workspace, it was nearly midnight. He glanced warily at the bag of homework he had meant to start on, but hadn’t. Harry stifled a yawn and checked his phone; no new messages, but he knew Anne would be waiting up for him. So he clicked off the lights and headed home. The long walk back in the crisp autumn air helped clear his head, and Harry had a chance to process everything that had happened that day. The surprise conversation with Louis Tomlinson at the lockers, the overheard debate between Liam and Louis, and the encouraging talk with Professor James—it was just a lot for Harry to take in on a Monday. Sometimes he wondered if any of his fellow students ever got as overwhelmed as Harry did, just trying to survive high school. Kids like Liam and Louis made it look easy.

Harry had meant to sketch out some ideas for his senior project when he got home, but the late hour and exhaustion caught up with him. As he crawled into bed, a slant of moonlight illuminated the blank page of his sketchbook waiting for him on his desk, and Harry resolutely turned his eyes away. There was only so much a person could do in a day.

*

On Wednesday, when the afternoon bell rang, Harry headed to the journalism classroom. Apparently Wednesday was the Journal’s major work day. Then they went to press on Thursday evening. Harry walked into the classroom to see Zayn and Niall poring over an article, while Jade was chatting with Professor James. Liam and Ed were in the middle of a conversation of their own.

Harry had meant to sneak in unnoticed, but Niall’s head popped up when he saw Harry.

“Hey, man! How’s the head? How did the photos turn out?” he asked.

At that, everyone turned around to stare inquisitively at Harry, and he silently berated Niall. Harry could feel himself blushing, but he addressed the class in general.

“I’m ok, thanks. And I have the photos, if you’d like to see?”

There was a slight commotion as everyone crowded around Harry. He carefully pulled the prints out of his bag and spread them out across a nearby work table. The class waited in anticipation, and then there was a chorus of “oohs” and “wows” as they took in the photos. Niall clapped Harry on the back, and Liam exclaimed, “Awesome!”

The rest of the journalism students chatted excitedly and pointed at their favorites, and Harry took a step back. He met Professor James’ eye, and she offered him a proud smile.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, and Harry nodded and smiled.

“Harry, these are sick!” Niall said, and Zayn hummed and nodded. Niall carefully picked up a photo by the edges and handed it to the professor. “Look at this one.”

Professor James examined the photo, the one of Louis kicking the penalty shot. Harry felt suddenly nervous as he realized everyone was critiquing his work. But the professor smiled.

“Well done, Harry! And you said you know nothing about sports,” she teased warmly.

“Believe me, I don’t,” Harry admitted.

“He knows to watch out for fly balls,” Niall quipped, and Zayn elbowed him in the ribs.

“What Niall means, is,” Zayn interjected smoothly, “we’re taking you out to celebrate. Right, Liam?”

Liam grinned and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Absolutely, Harry. Great work!”

“Thanks, guys,” Harry mumbled, still embarrassed at the praise.

“Oh god, please tell me we’re going to Mary’s,” Niall begged, staring hopefully at Liam.

Liam laughed. “Where else? Professor, are you in?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Professor James promised, winking at Harry. “We’ll go to press Thursday and then go out to celebrate on Friday, Harry. It’s our little tradition. My treat.”

Harry smiled in spite of his nerves and nodded. He couldn’t wait to tell Perrie about today’s events. “Can I bring a friend?”

*

Harry didn’t have any more run ins with Louis Tomlinson over the next two days, which he was both grateful for and disappointed about simultaneously. He reasoned that he had no idea what he would say to Louis even if their paths did cross.

The Jackson Journal went to print on Thursday night, and Harry helped an excited Liam distribute it to the classrooms on Friday morning. Amidst opinion columns about extended lunches and better school food, there was of course Zayn’s write up about the game. Accompanying that was a set of photos with the credit, _Harry Styles_ under each one. Anne would be so proud to see that, Harry imagined. His first byline! By lunch, everyone had seen the photos, including the one of Louis’ penalty shot. People who had never spoken to Harry a day in his life came up to congratulate him and pat him on the back. Harry was completely unnerved by it, but Perrie watched with amusement through the lunch period. During a lull in activity, she ventured to say,

“H, I’m really proud of you. Your photos are great, as usual, but you’ve also made some new friends. I can’t wait to meet them.”

Harry grinned shyly. “They’re pretty cool. And I’m sure they’ll love you. Thanks for coming with me tonight, by the way.”

“As if I would miss a dinner celebrating your success!” Perrie joked rolling her eyes. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“It might become a thing,” Harry warned, referencing the Friday dinners at Mary’s.

“Not like we had other plans, babe,” Perrie admitted with a wry smile.

Harry went through the rest of his day with random classmates congratulating him on the photos. Frankly, it felt weird, but even Harry was giddy from the attention. Several of the Jaguars team and even the coach complimented his work. Secretly, he wondered if the subject of the photos, Louis himself would speak to Harry. But as the day passed, Harry didn’t see him once. He was a little disappointed, but had the evening to look forward to still.

*

Mary’s diner was the quintessential American restaurant. Located just three block from Jackson High School, it was the perfect location for after school hangouts and celebratory dinners after the big game. It didn’t look like much to the casual observer, but that’s the way locals preferred it. From the outside, it looked like a run-down restaurant, with a simple cursive lettering on the door that read “Mary’s.” Inside, though, it was like a time warp back to the 1950s. The décor was Jaguar green and silver, which extended from banners and retired school jerseys to the faded green booths and silver counter. Barstools spanned the long counter, and any available space that wasn’t occupied in school spirit was covered in 50s memorabilia. Framed photos of Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, and James Dean lined the walls. A jukebox in the corner blared classic rock music, and the scuffed black and white checkered floors had seen their share of impromptu dancing. The fare consisted of burgers and fries, the milkshakes Mary’s was famous for, and ice cream. And Mary herself, now in her 80s, still chatted from table to table with the locals about ballgames and grandkids.

There was always a crowd there, in such a small town with no fast food or drive-thrus. That night, as Perrie and Harry entered the restaurant, several men from the local power plant were occupying the barstools and selecting “Heartbreak Hotel” on the jukebox. Harry held the door for Perrie, and they walked in to see the journalism class had commandeered a corner booth and pulled up a few extra chairs.

Harry grinned in spite of his nerves when Liam waved them over. Jade, Ed, and Niall occupied one side of the booth, while Liam and Zayn sat opposite them. Professor James was at the counter ordering shakes for the class.

Liam stood and stepped aside for Harry and Perrie to slide into the booth next to Zayn.

“So glad you guys could come!” Liam exclaimed cheerfully. “It’s Perrie, right?”

Perrie grinned and nodded. When Liam turned to say something to their classmates, Perrie murmured in Harry’s ear, “Omigod, Liam Payne knows my name. I can die happy.”

Harry chuckled and greeted his classmates.

“Hey, there’s the big photo star!” Niall cheered, offering a hand for Harry to shake. “Glad you made it!”

“Thanks, Niall,” Harry smiled, blushing a little. “What are you guys having?”

“The professor’s getting shakes for everyone, but I think Niall’s going for his usual,” Zayn said with a smile.

“Mary’s deluxe special! Absolutely!” Niall crowed. “Harry, are you in?”

Harry bit his lip and smiled. “That sounds like a lot of food.”

“It serves 4,” Zayn deadpanned.

Perrie laughed. “I like you guys already.”

Conversation flowed freely, and the journalism students bantered back and forth about Niall’s eating skills and school in general. When the professor returned and distributed the shakes, Liam offered a toast:

“To a great week at the Journal—and to Harry for his great work!”

The class raised their shakes in cheers. “Welcome to the team!” Professor James added, raising her chocolate shake to Harry.

Harry beamed and raised his glass in response. “To new and old friends!”

Perrie clinked her glass against Harry’s, and Niall followed suit. Harry took a sip of his shake, as the Shirelles sang, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” For once, Harry felt exactly where he was supposed to be.

*

Harry spent most of the weekend staring at his blank sketchbook, with a growing sense of despair. Every idea he had seemed overdone or cheesy. He sat outside in the cool autumn air in Anne’s garden, watching the sunlight filtering down through the leaves of an old maple, and wondered how on earth he would ever get from Jackson High School to a real art school. He walked the crumbling sidewalks of his street toward the bakery where he used to work last summer, looking for inspiration. By Sunday evening, he had resigned himself to the fact he would show up for Professor Swift’s class empty handed. Again.

Harry was sitting alone on a bench in the backyard when he heard the sliding kitchen door open and footsteps approaching. He looked up to see Anne walking towards him, wrapped in a plaid throw blanket, carrying two cups of what he sincerely hoped was cocoa. Harry smiled, wishing he could freeze this moment in time.

“Hey there, baby. Looks like you’re thinking too hard,” Anne said by way of greeting. She extended one of the ceramic mugs out to Harry, and he accepted it with a murmured “thanks.”

“So what’s the plan?” Anne asked, gesturing to the sketchbook laying in Harry’s lap.

Harry laughed humorlessly. “Um, well. Currently it’s showing up tomorrow and begging the professor for more time.”

“The deadline is December, you said?” Anne asked, settling in on the bench beside him.

“Yeah. It used to seem like all the time in the world, but now…not so much.”

“Hmm,” Anne replied thoughtfully. “You’ll think of something, though. Wait and see. And it will be great. What did your professor say again?”

“That I needed to infuse ‘more heart’ into my photos. Whatever that means,” Harry sighed.

In the brief silence that followed, crickets chirped in the fading twilight. Harry was still stressed; he imagined he would be until December. But he felt peaceful, for the first time that day.

“Have you thought about asking your friends for help?” Anne asked tentatively.

Harry took a sip of his cocoa. “I mean…I don’t know what I would do with them. And they’re all busy doing their own things.”

“It’s senior year; everyone’s busy. But I’m sure they would make time for you.”

“We’ll see,” Harry hedged, not wanting to disappoint his mother. “For now, I guess I’ll just ask Professor Swift for ideas.”

Anne placed a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek and stood. “It’ll come to you, dear. Get some sleep.”

“Thanks, mom,” Harry smiled ruefully. “I’ll be in in a few.”

“Take your time,” Anne said in parting.

As Harry watched her walk back into the house, it struck him as odd how small his mother looked. All his life, she seemed magically lovely, larger than life. But now he was starting to realize she was just human, like him. She had her own worries and problems. And it certainly couldn’t have been easy raising him on her own, but she did it. If she could manage all that, then it was the least Harry could do to finish his project and make her proud. With a sigh, he closed his sketchbook and stared at the night sky. Funny how just a few weeks had changed everything. He had new friends, and a new job at the Journal, and if he was finally honest with himself, a crush on Louis Tomlinson. He was alone, but not lonely; nearly grown, but he still felt so small. He would be leaving home soon, and then he would be on his own. He was a decent photographer, but was he good enough to make it in the real world? All these thoughts swam through Harry’s mind as he slowly stood and trudged back into the house he grew up in. He went to bed feeling torn, and dreamed he was lost at sea with no compass.

*

Monday morning, trying to stomach the feeling of dread he was experiencing, Harry made the trip up to Professor Swift’s classroom. It was best to face the music and move on, he reasoned. A text from Perrie came in, a simple _Good luck!_ And Harry smiled.

Professor Swift was standing at his desk with a cup of coffee when Harry entered. He looked up and smiled, then mimed checking his watch.

“Morning Harry! This is early, even for you!”

Harry laughed nervously. “I’m not here to work, actually. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure!” the professor said, setting down his mug of coffee. “Come in!”

“Thanks,” Harry said a little breathlessly. He entered the classroom and took a seat in front of the professor’s desk.

“What can I help you with, Harry?” Professor Swift asked.

“It’s about my senior project,” Harry said, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s, um. Not going well. Not going at all, to be honest.”

“Ah,” the professor replied thoughtfully. “What’s the main problem?”

Harry bit his lip. “Adding heart and life into my photos.”

The professor considered Harry for a moment. “Hmm. Well, you know,” he began, and then crossed the room to his small office to retrieve a Jackson Journal. “You seem to have it here. I meant to congratulate you earlier.”

Harry looked up with wide eyes. “But those are just reporting photos, sir.”

The professor smiled enigmatically. “Take another look.”

Harry rose from his seat in confusion and stood next to the professor. He stared down at the now-familiar shot of the team huddle. Professor Swift pointed at the photo.

“I see a story here,” he explained. “A leader, here,” he pointed at Louis, “preparing his team for the next move. They’re listening carefully, and believe in him.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. The professor got all that from looking at his photo?

“Just like your new team believes in you. And like I believe in you, Harry. You just have to find moments like this to capture. Tell a story. Capture our attention. You did it expertly here.”

Harry felt hope bloom in his chest for the first time since he started this project.

“You mean…?” he trailed off, uncertain.

“I mean,” the professor concluded, standing, “capture life, Harry. In any form you can. Do you have some people you could photograph?”

Harry’s heart sank. “I don’t…really have any in mind.”

“Well, you certainly did well with Mr. Tomlinson. See where that leads you,” he said.

Harry was more confused than ever. What was he supposed to do, have a photoshoot with Louis in his soccer gear? The professor winked and turned to go back to his tiny office.

“As Annie Leibovitz once said, Harry, ‘A thing that you see in my pictures is that I was not afraid to fall in love with these people.’” The professor waved, and then disappeared into his office.

Harry stood in the empty classroom for a moment, processing what Professor Swift just said. He felt like he was still in his dream from last night, lost at sea.

 _Fall in love_ with his subjects? What was that supposed to mean? Harry hung his head and walked out of the classroom. What was he going to do?

*

Harry walked back to his locker like a man walking to his death. He had essentially been given a death sentence, after all. Either find some people to photograph, or fail. He shook his head restlessly.

All things considered, the way his morning was going, Harry should not have been surprised to see Louis Tomlinson standing at his locker. But he was.

Harry was in no mood for more riddles or confusion. “Is this going to be a thing on Mondays?” he grumped as way of greeting.

Louis turned to watch Harry approaching, and Harry was taken aback. For there stood Louis, dressed in a simple oversized soccer jersey and faded skinny jeans, looking as bad as Harry felt. His handsome face was marked with dark circles under his eyes, and in the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, he looked pale. He was nervously fiddling with the straps on his backpack, scuffing his feet in front of him as he waited. When he met Harry’s eyes, Harry saw every emotion he was currently feeling himself: nervous, yet slightly annoyed, awkward yet brash. Louis raised his eyebrows in surprise at Harry’s tone, then dropped his gaze to his feet.

“Sorry.”

Harry’s expression softened, and he replied, “It’s not you; I’m sorry. I’m just…yeah. Was there something you needed?”

Louis looked up timidly, biting his lip. “Just, um. I wanted to say thanks for the photos last week. You did a great job, even though I nearly gave you a concussion. And, um. My mom was so pleased with them, she clipped one of the photos to the fridge at home.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. Whatever he was expecting Louis to say, it wasn’t thank you. “Oh! Um. You’re welcome. Just doing my job.”

Louis smiled lopsidedly. “Well, you’re doing it really well, according to Liam. So, thank you.”

Harry smiled, his mood lifting minutely. “Anytime.”

“So I guess I’ll see you at the next game then?” Louis asked, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Absolutely, yeah. I’ll be there,” Harry replied, and then was at a loss for words. Louis just looked so small and defeated for some reason. Harry wished he could figure out why, although it was none of his business.

“Ok. Well, see you later, Harry,” Louis said with a weary smile.

“Later,” Harry echoed. Louis turned to leave, and Harry felt terrible. If only he could cheer him up.

“Oh, and Louis?” he added, and Louis turned on the spot to look at him. “Um. Good game. You did really great.”

Louis smiled, genuinely this time, and nodded once. Then he turned and walked away.

Harry waited until Louis turned the corner, then collapsed against his locker and sighed. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Perrie. Then he grabbed his books and headed to class, thoughts of Louis swirling in his stressed-out mind. His phone dinged, signaling a text back, and Harry read Perrie’s message as he ducked into his first class. To his original message, _Why is high school so complicated?_ Perrie had simply replied, _that’s life._

*


	2. Chapter 2

II.

 

“The camera is an excuse to be someplace you otherwise don’t belong. It gives me both a point of connection and a point of separation.”  
— Susan Meiselas

 

The next home game found Harry parked on the sidelines of the soccer field, camera ready. Although it wasn’t a tournament game, as Harry learned that week at school, it was a big day nevertheless. Besides the record-sized crowd packed into the bleachers, there was rumored to be someone else present that day: a talent scout.

Niall had explained it all that week during a Jackson Journal meeting. Harry was new to the sports world, so he took in everything Niall was saying carefully.

“Rumor is, Tommo’s being recruited by several schools,” Niall had explained as he unwrapped a hamburger he had smuggled from the cafeteria at lunch. “The scouts come to high school games to scope out the best players and try to get them to sign with them.”

“But he’s still in high school,” Harry frowned, wondering briefly how Niall could possibly still be hungry. “Seems like that would be against the rules.”

Niall shrugged and took a large bite of his burger. “Common practice. And Tommo has seen his share of scouts during his high school career. He’s a pro.”

Harry pondered that as he watched Niall inhale his sandwich. He wondered what that would be like, going out on the field to play knowing a potential college opportunity was waiting in the bleachers, on top of the general pressure of the game. Would Louis be nervous? Or would he just command the field with his usual confidence? Obviously, Harry wasn’t in the sports world, but he knew a thing or two about pressure. He cast a side glance at the messenger bag beside him, where an empty sketchbook was waiting for his project ideas. Harry tried to shake off the feeling that the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He reminded himself he could have it worse—he could have talent scouts looking over his shoulder in the darkroom. Harry shuddered.

So today, on the field, Harry cast curious looks into the bleachers for any new faces. In such a small town, outsiders tended to stand out. He didn’t recognize anyone new. In the minutes before the game started, Harry focused his camera on his friends in the crowd. Liam was there this time with Niall and Zayn, and they were all laughing at something Niall had said. There was Zayn, decked out in all black with a trademark cigarette behind his ear, a bemused smile on his face; Niall, with silver and green war paint on his face, head thrown back in a laugh; and Liam, tall and broad shouldered, grinning along with them. Harry smiled and snapped a picture of the moment, all three boys laughing in the dappled afternoon light. He had no idea what the joke was, but in a way, he felt included. That was the cool thing about taking photos, Harry guessed—that for a moment, at least, he was included in the action.

Voices on the field drew everyone’s attention, and it was time for the game to begin. The coaches were shaking hands, and the players stopped their stretching and conversations for the national anthem. As the pre-recorded anthem played through the old speakers on the field, Harry scanned across the faces of the players, until he landed on Louis. Smiling slightly in the sunshine, he looked tan and confident about the game. If word had reached him about the rumored talent scout showing up, he didn’t seem worried. Harry let out a sigh of relief, not realizing how stressed he was for Louis’ sake.

Harry frowned and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had enough to worry about, not the least of which was avoiding another ball to the head today. As the game began, Harry took a seat on the sidelines and got to work. He pondered pulling out his headphones and listening to some calming music on his phone, but decided against it. As cheesy as it sounded, there might not be many more experiences like this in his high school career. And Harry wanted to be present for everything. Working on the Journal and making new friends had really changed his outlook on things, Harry reflected. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the bleachers to Niall and Zayn, and smiled.

The last thing Harry expected to happen was for him to get sucked into the game. But it did. One minute, Harry was photographing a play, and the next, he was shouting along with the crowd at a bad play the referee had called. It was cathartic in a way, being part of a crowd for once. Harry wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow and zoomed in on the ref’s face with his camera. Might as well get a good shot of the moment. Harry gazed out across the field at the players’ reactions to the bad call. Several of the Jackson Jaguars were speaking at once, gesturing with their hands about what really happened. Harry found Louis standing in the midst of it, like the eye of the storm, standing with his hands on his hips, eyes squinted closed in frustration. He allowed his teammates another moment to vent, and then called them into a huddle. It was amazing to watch the disgruntled players stop at the sound of Louis’ voice, right on the spot. They obediently jogged toward Louis, and soon Harry’s view of Louis was obstructed. He could hear a murmur of voices, and wondered how Louis was going to get his team back on track. The huddle couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds, and then the players dispersed and returned to their positions on the field. Louis emerged from the group, running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. But his composure never cracked.

And it was the strangest thing; one moment the home crowd was booing the ref, making snide comments, and then with a simple clap and a clipped, “Let’s go!” from Louis, the fans settled down. Some, like Niall were still muttering under their breath, but the crowd sat back down and the game resumed. Harry’s jaw dropped; who was this guy? Movement from beside him on the sideline captured Harry’s attention, and he turned to see a newcomer chatting with the coach. He was dressed in rumpled khakis and a black polo shirt, as if he had been driving for a while. As Harry watched, the man shook hands with the coach and pointed out a few players on the field before landing on Louis. Behind his Ray Bans, Harry couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he knew the man was focusing on Louis.

For some reason, this didn’t sit well with Harry. If this was indeed the talent scout, he stuck out like a sore thumb. It was like he wasn’t even trying to blend in. Some of the players from both teams had already noticed the man, and were casting curious glances. One of the Jaguars missed a play, and the opposite team captured the ball. The players were still looking over their shoulders at the man on the sidelines. Louis frowned in frustration and looked around for the source of the distraction.

Harry could tell the exact moment Louis noticed the talent scout. First, he squinted in confusion in the bright sunlight, and shielded his eyes. Then, he frowned and his jaw dropped. Harry could have sworn he saw Louis roll his eyes. And there was a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn’t there before. Louis shook his head minutely and then turned his attention back to the game. But the damage was done.

It was like a switch had gone off in Louis; he was working on autopilot. He still made calls for his team and lead the plays, but there was no fire in his eyes. The Jaguars won, as predicted, and the crowd cheered, but the atmosphere was noticeably tense. In the bleachers, Zayn had paused making notes in his spiral notebook, and he was watching the field intently. There was a sinking feeling in Harry’s stomach as he watched the players line up to shake hands with the opposite team. Technically speaking, Louis had performed well, but it wasn’t like his usual success. Was it enough to convince a talent scout though? Harry wasn’t sure. Harry watched with a slight frown as the scout muttered something into a phone, watching the field. Then he turned and headed back to his car without another word.

The crowd was filtering out of the stands now, but Louis and a couple players still stood on the field talking with the coach. Harry snapped a picture then, and it was very different from Louis’ usual posture: he stood there, head hanging down as he listened to the coach speak, his mouth a tense line, and shoulders hunched. He was scuffing one of his cleats across a bare spot on the grass, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Anyone would have thought Louis’ team had just lost, based on his attitude. For a moment, Louis looked very small, and Harry could see his shoulders sag under all the pressure. It wasn’t fair, Harry realized, to put so much on someone still in high school. All the homework assignments and deadlines, exams, and talks about college scholarships, on top of the social expectations, were really too much for a person to handle. It was no wonder Harry had restless dreams and dreaded his project. It was no wonder Louis looked like he had just lost out on something precious. How was anyone supposed to cope?

A text notification dinged in his pocket, breaking Harry’s train of thought, and he pulled out his phone. It was Niall.

_Hey bro, not going to Mary’s today. See you Monday?_

_Sure. Have a good weekend,_ Harry typed back. Niall answered with a winking emoji.

By the time Harry pocketed his phone, he realized the team had all cleared out. The stands were empty, and Harry was alone. He was a little disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to speak to Louis, although it occurred to Harry that he had no idea what he would have said. Good game? Sorry about the talent scout? Better luck next time? None of those seemed right.

Harry packed up his belongings and took one more look across the empty field. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but Harry suddenly didn’t have the energy to process it. He was tired and just wanted to crawl under the covers of his bed and only emerge when life was simpler. He sighed and began the long walk home, determined to clear his head. He had enough problems to worry about without thinking about Louis Tomlinson’s too.

*

That night found Harry working in the darkroom developing the photos from the game. He could have waited until tomorrow, but Anne was out this weekend visiting her sister and Harry didn’t want to hang out in an empty house. Perrie was sick, unfortunately, leaving Harry on his own. So he sought solace in his favorite place, trying to shake off the feelings that he was utterly alone.

Harry scrolled through his music on his phone until he landed on Fleetwood Mac and smiled a little. As the opening notes for “The Chain” filled the room, Harry hunched over the enlarging machine and focused on his negatives from the game. He was choosing to develop shots from the beginning of the game, before the dreaded talent scout arrived, when Louis was still charismatic as usual. As Stevie Nicks sang, “Damn your love, damn your lies,” Harry focused the beam of light on his negative of Louis calling a play. Louis’ mouth was open as he shouted out a command, pointing to something in the distance. His uniform was still crisp as it was early in the game, and the sunlight caught the caramel undertones of his hair, making it shine. He looked magical, Harry thought with a grim smile. And then everything had changed. Harry spared a thought for what Louis might be doing tonight. For his sake, Harry hoped he was at a party, maybe one of Liam’s, forgetting his troubles. He deserved it after a day like today.

It was a great shot of Louis, the one Harry was working on, and he hoped it was good enough to use for the Journal. He wondered what Zayn would say in his article for the game. Harry hesitated a moment, scanning over his negatives, until he landed on the one of Louis after the game. In black and white, he looked so small and defeated. Harry wouldn’t dream of submitting this one to the Journal; even he knew that would crush Louis, and possibly the whole team. But even if Harry was the only one to ever see that photo, he was going to develop it. It was such an honest moment, like Professor Swift was looking for. Was he on the right track with photos like this? Maybe Harry’s project wasn’t hopeless after all.

“And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again,” Fleetwood Mac sang as Harry prepared to enlarge the emotional photo of Louis. He sang along under his breath as he worked. It was a beautiful duet, both melodic but painful at the same time. Harry beamed the ray of light from the enlarger machine and began making the print of his photo. He intended for no one to ever see it but him, but he still wanted it to be good.

Harry lost track of time as he worked, and by the time he yawned involuntarily, a glance at his phone showed it was past eleven. He didn’t dare leave the photo of vulnerable Louis clipped to the little clothesline for every photography student to see on Monday. It was dry enough to carefully tuck into his bag. Harry cleaned up his trays and solutions and wiped down the stainless steel table until is shone in the faint light. He turned out the lights in the lab and headed down the stairs to leave. Crossing the parking lot, for some reason his eye was drawn to the soccer field. The lights were on, illuminating the empty field.

Harry thought about going home to his deserted, too-quiet house, and felt his feet carrying him towards the field. He had never actually been on the field during the soccer games, and he was pleasantly surprised to feel how soft the grass was. He dropped his bag beside him in the grass and sat down. He would just stay for a few minutes, until he was tired enough to go home.

Harry sank back against the grass, until he was gazing up at the stars. It was a quiet autumn night in Jackson, and he wagered most people were asleep by now. It was kind of nice, being the only one out now. Harry stared up at the sky, wondering if anyone else ever felt this overwhelmed and small. He still had no idea what to do for his project, and he smelled distinctly of lab chemicals, but Harry felt oddly at peace.

He didn’t hear the approaching footsteps, but Harry did hear a now-familiar voice when it arrived.

“Did you take another ball to the head, Curly?”

Harry smiled at the sky.

“Curly?” he asked by way of greeting.

Louis entered Harry’s peripheral vision, then. He certainly wasn’t dressed for a party, Harry noticed. Louis was wearing a soft looking gray hoodie and sweatpants with an old pair of sneakers. A green beanie covered his hair. Even in the glaring lights of the field, Harry could see the fatigue in the lines of Louis’ face.

“Well, if the name fits,” Louis quipped, taking a seat a few feet from Harry. He sighed and looked up at the sky. “Could ask you what you’re doing here.”

Harry shrugged, cutting his eyes across to Louis. “Could ask you the same thing.”

Louis nodded and looked down at his lap. “Join the club. Everyone seems to be asking what I’m doing.”

Harry regarded Louis as he lay back against the soft grass. Just a few hours ago, he had been standing on that spot watching a talent scout leave without a hello. Harry had no idea how he would cope if that were him.

“Hmm. Well, what are you doing?” Harry asked around a yawn.

Louis chuckled humorlessly. “I have no fucking clue.”

Harry nodded, feeling older than his seventeen years suddenly. “I know the feeling.”

“Sucks,” Louis admitted quietly.

“It really does,” Harry replied thoughtfully. He saw Louis smile grimly from the corner of his eye.

For a moment, they lay there in companionable silence. There were several questions swirling in Harry’s mind, but he didn’t voice them. Like Louis said, there were already enough people questioning him.

“Do you ever wonder,” Louis began, then sighed. “If, like, there are other universes where you are doing different things but still happy?”

Harry considered that for a moment. He tried to imagine another world where Harry was a successful photographer, with a family of his own. His mother came over for dinner once a week, and he talked to Perrie on the phone daily. He had a modest but warm little house, and someone he loved to come home to every day. No more empty houses. In the bright lights of the field in their small town, Harry realized that dream was so far away it might as well have been in the stars.

“Seems nice,” Harry ventured, “but impossible.”

Louis nodded, but didn’t comment.

“Are you like, wanting to do something else, or?” Harry asked. He stared back up at the sky.

Louis didn’t respond for several moments. When he did, he sounded exactly like Harry felt: tired and overwhelmed.

“No. I just wish…it was easier to get to where I want to be.”

Harry hummed his agreement with that statement. How many times had he wished he could wake up tomorrow and be in art school, or running a photography studio of his own?

“We’re still young, you know,” Harry sighed. “We’ve got time.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “And if anyone’s going to make it out of this town, it’s you.”

Louis turned slowly to look at Harry. His blue eyes were clouded with an unknown emotion as he said, “But I don’t know where I’m going.”

If Harry hadn’t taken that photograph of a defeated Louis earlier today, he would never believe Louis Tomlinson could be this vulnerable. Before he could formulate a response, though, Louis continued.

“There’s all these schools,” he muttered, almost as if to himself, “and I just. Don’t know which to choose. There’s so much at stake, too.”

Not for the first time, Harry felt the injustice of it all. He frowned at the stars, but they just winked back enigmatically.

“How do they expect us to know everything right now?” Harry asked, voicing his frustration. “There’s just so much…”

“Pressure?” Louis asked, and his lips quirked up into a small smile.

“Exactly,” Harry sighed, deflating a bit.

“Yeah.”

Harry bit his lip, and chanced a look at Louis. He found Louis to be already staring at him. Harry could practically see the internal struggle Louis was facing, as if he was debating whether to speak. Louis blinked, and his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. Harry wished he could photograph that moment in time and live in it forever.

Finally, Louis spoke, almost as if he couldn’t help it. “You’re not nobody, you know?”

Harry thought back to their first conversation, and warmth flooded his cheeks. But it was like he couldn’t look away from Louis now.

“I know. It’s just…” Harry began, then felt at a loss for words. “I don’t know. I just feel, like, alone. All the time.” Harry knew he was blushing, but couldn’t look away from Louis’ eyes.

“Ok,” Louis said thoughtfully. He stared at Harry intently, and Harry wondered what Louis saw when he looked at him. “Do you feel alone now?” Louis asked, biting his lip.

Harry thought about it. “No,” he said, barely a whisper. Louis’ answering smile was everything Harry didn’t know, until that moment, that he was missing in his life.

“Well, there you go,” Louis said, and then turned his gaze back up to the sky. “I see you.”

“Yeah, you do,” Harry marveled to himself. Who would have thought he would ever have a conversation like this with Louis Tomlinson? Harry sighed and stared at the stars. In his alternate universe, a grown-up Harry was walking through the door of his home after a day in the studio. He was met by a warm smile and bright blue eyes and a “welcome home, dear,” in a familiar voice. It was a slightly chaotic scene, as the man in front of him was holding a curious toddler and toys were strewn around the house, but Harry knew instinctively, light years away on a soccer field, exactly what it felt like: home.

Harry didn’t know where he was going or how he was going to get there, but for a moment at least, he was exactly where he belonged.

*

The next day dawned with saturated storm clouds and strong winds, and Harry ignored his alarm. It was Sunday and he had the house to himself, after all. And after the eventful soccer game and his conversation with Louis, Harry was just feeling a bit overwhelmed. There was only so much one person could handle, he reasoned, staring blearily at his ceiling.

Eventually, hunger rolled Harry out of bed and he foraged in the kitchen. He grabbed a couple leftover blueberry muffins his mom had made yesterday, a cookie, and a banana. Back in his room, Harry selected Fleetwood Mac again on his phone and sat down at his desk with the still-empty sketchbook. He stared at the blank page in front of him thoughtfully as he chewed a banana.

There were so many things on his mind that even in his blurry morning state, Harry didn’t know where to start. He tapped a pencil pensively against the paper of the sketchbook. From his speakers, “Landslide” began to play.

Harry listened to the lyrics as he began sketching. “Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?” Stevie Nicks asked. Harry began to see the shape of two eyes forming on the page. He was no expert artist as far as drawing went, but he was decent. Harry pondered his conversation with Louis as he sketched. The eyes on his page soon featured long lashes and slight circles under the eyes from a restless lack of sleep.

_Well there you go. I see you._

Harry got lost in his music and in thought, and just let the picture on the page unfold. Louis had seemed so tired and perplexed last night. Just when Harry imagined he would be out partying, Louis was lying next to him on a soccer field at midnight. Harry was starting to think all his preconceived notions about Louis might be inaccurate. He drew sculpted cheekbones and a mouth curved in a wry smile. The face staring back at him seemed wise beyond its years.

“Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?” Stevie sang, and Harry felt an actual pang to his heart. Wasn’t his life already complicated enough? Didn’t he have enough pressure to succeed without an unwanted crush weighing him down? And yet, there was Louis’ face staring back at him from the page, and it was just too much for Harry. He still had no ideas for his project, time was ticking, and instead of actually working, Harry was drawing Louis Tomlinson. He might as well have doodled their initials together in a heart on his math notebook.

A thought struck Harry, and it was enough to make him slowly fold his sketchbook closed. He stood and pushed his chair in methodically, even as his heart felt like it would shatter. Harry walked back to his bed, pulled back the covers, and slid inside. He buried his face in the pillow and groaned. He tried to sleep, but the thought consumed him. It made him question everything from the way he dressed down to his very personality. Yes, Louis Tomlinson saw him. But did he like what he saw?

Harry had never felt more like a teenager than he did at that moment. He vowed to get his feelings under control so that by the time Monday morning rolled around, he could face Louis in the halls and be unaffected. Louis had seen Harry once, and that would have to be enough—it couldn’t happen again. Harry’s very sanity depended on it.

*

“So let me get this straight,” Perrie said in the halls between classes on Monday. She held her books in one hand and put her other hand on her hip as a sea of students flowed around them.

“You stargazed with Louis Tomlinson on the soccer field all night, and you never got his number?”

Harry grimaced. “You make it sound so, like…romantic. And intentional. It wasn’t like that.” Harry rubbed his temples where a stress headache was beginning to bloom. It was only 9 am.

Perrie rolled her eyes and smiled. “Oh, Harry. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m sure Louis doesn’t feel that way. He’s probably really glad to confide in someone as special as you.”

Harry looked down at his feet. “He said…he _saw_ me. What does that even mean?”

Perrie grinned and pulled Harry into a one-armed hug. “It means your luck might be changing, H.”

“I really don’t need this added stress in my life, Perrie.”

“Hmm. Well, did you feel stressed when you were talking to Louis?” she countered.

Harry thought about it. How it had felt to stare up at the glittering sky, feeling so small, but finally having someone beside him. He knew he would never forget that moment as long as he lived.

“Not really,” Harry said, still unwilling to admit his feelings. “But he’s probably forgotten all about it by now.”

Harry sighed and offered Perrie a sad smile. “It was just an anomaly, you know? A glitch in the universe. Our lives aren’t meant to intersect like that.”

Perrie narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press further. “If you say so.”

“So, I’ll see you at lunch?” Harry asked, trying to find something to look forward to. It was going to be a long day.

“Of course. I’ll save you a seat,” Perrie winked, and then turned to follow a crowd of students down the hall.

Harry stared after her for a moment, then turned on the spot. He was headed to see Professor James about his newest prints. He patted his bag, where the photos from the game were secured. Harry tried to swallow his nerves, which always flared up when he had to show someone his work. He was going to have to get used to it if he was going to go to art school, of course.

Professor James was reading the morning paper at her desk when Harry knocked on the doorframe.

“Harry!” she exclaimed with a warm smile. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?” The professor rose from her desk and crossed the room.

Harry smiled in spite of his nerves and entered the otherwise empty room. He placed his bag on a vacant desk. “I have some photos for you, Professor,” Harry said by way of greeting.

“Wonderful, Harry,” Professor James said. “Let’s take a look.”

Harry nodded and carefully pulled out the stack of black and white prints from the soccer game. He spread them across the desk and waited with held breath.

The professor raised her eyebrows in pleasant surprise as she took in the number of photos Harry was able to produce. She gingerly picked up the print of Louis shouting orders to a teammate. It was early in the game, before the talent scout blowout.

“Oh, this is great, Harry! You captured a perfect moment,” she affirmed.

Harry smiled. “It was a good game, for the most part. They make it easy to photograph.”

“I’m glad. I think we can use several of these,” Professor James replied. She finally looked up from the photos and focused her warm brown eyes on Harry.

“So, how is your project going? Any new ideas?”

Harry bit his lip. “Not exactly. I’m still stuck.” He hated to admit it, especially to someone like the professor who was always so encouraging.

“Do you have a direction you’re going in at the moment?” she asked.

Harry chanced a look at her eyes, just to find they were open and friendly. He should have known by now that she was always looking for the best in people.

“I keep thinking it will be portraits, but that’s all I know,” Harry admitted.

“You know, I took an intro to photography course once,” the professor said.

Harry’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. “Really?”

“Yes, I did. It was just a casual summer class back in the day, but it was fascinating.”

“What did you photograph?” Harry asked.

“People mostly, like you said. There’s just so much…possibility in every human face. I found it was like an excuse to be places I shouldn’t, like the camera gave me access to things I otherwise would never experience.”

Harry thought about that for a moment and nodded. “I know what you mean. That’s how I feel at the soccer games.”

The professor nodded. “Exactly. Now, mind you, my photos were never that good. But the experience was priceless.”

Harry had never thought about photography in those terms, but it made sense.

“Maybe you could look for more moments like that for your project?” Professor James proposed. “I mean, moments where you explore places you don’t usually belong.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s an amazing idea. Thank you.”

The professor winked and patted Harry on the shoulder. “I think you’ll find, Harry, that the people you seek for this project are more accessible than you think. Everyone likes to be immortalized on film.”

Harry chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “I kind of wish I’d come to you first, professor.”

Professor James laughed as well. “I’m always here for whatever you might need. But trust your instincts, Harry. They’re usually right.”

Harry grinned and thanked her. He left the stack of photos for the professor to pore over, and headed out to the hall.

Zayn was coming down the hallway towards Harry, and offered a smile when he saw Harry emerge from the classroom.

“Hey, Harry. How did the photos turn out?”

“Um, good I think,” Harry replied. “How’s your article?”

Zayn grimaced a little, then shrugged. “Ok, I guess. It kind of feels like tiptoeing around landmines, what with not talking about that dick talent scout showing up.”

“You noticed that.”

Zayn let out a sigh of frustration. “He was pretty obvious. It’s more pressure than anyone deserves.”

Harry nodded in agreement. “That’s what I was thinking. It’s no wonder…” he trailed off, uncertain if he should be talking about Louis.

Zayn nodded in silent understanding. “I know what you mean. I don’t know how he managed the rest of the game.”

“It was kind of hard to watch,” Harry admitted, looking down at his feet. When he chanced a glance at Zayn, he found him to be staring intently at Harry. Harry suspected that given enough time, Zayn could figure out all his deepest thoughts just from looking in his eyes. Harry wasn’t so sure he wanted anyone to know what he was thinking about Louis just yet.

“It was,” Zayn agreed. He checked the time on his phone. “Well, I’m headed in to talk about my article with the professor. I’ll see you around, Harry.” Zayn patted Harry on the shoulder and then walked down the hall.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He thought about the print of Louis from the end of the game, now carefully tucked in the back of his sketchbook at home. It would never see the light of day, but that made Harry proud of it in a way. He felt like he was carrying around a secret about Louis, based on the photo and then their talk on the field that night. Even if he never spoke to Louis again, Harry intended to keep that secret from prying eyes.

As he walked back down the hall towards his locker, Harry thought about what Professor James had said about photographing people. He still had no clue what to do for his project, but if he focused on people like she said, Harry might have a chance of getting into art school. Now he just had to find some willing people.

*

Perrie was scrolling through her phone at their usual table when Harry made it to the cafeteria. He placed his lunch tray on the table, eyeing his meatloaf with unease.

“Anything new?” Harry asked, gesturing to Perrie’s phone. She sighed and placed it on the table.

“Nah. Just the usual on Instagram and Twitter. Your average high school drama,” she said with a wry smile. “How was your morning?”

“Not bad,” Harry replied, skipping the meatloaf and going straight to the slice of chocolate cake on his tray. “Professor James was giving me some tips for my project.”

“The journalism teacher?” Perrie frowned.

“Yeah. She suggested I focus on people in my photos.”

“Well, that’s a good idea, right?” Perrie asked, picking at a lumpy pile of mashed potatoes.

“Theoretically. But in reality, who am I going to take pictures of?” Harry grumped.

“Well, I’m always free, if you’re not sick of taking photos of me by now,” she replied.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. “I may take you up on that.”

Harry finished his cake while Perrie gave up on her mashed potatoes and went to get an ice cream bar. Harry sat alone at their table for a few moments, thinking about what he could photograph Perrie doing. The camera loved her, to no surprise, so he just needed to get creative. In the middle of his pondering, a voice cut through the noise of the cafeteria.

“Hey, Harry.”

Harry looked up and almost dropped his fork. For standing there with a group of soccer players Harry only knew by team number, was Louis Tomlinson. Saying hello.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He took in Louis’ European soccer jersey, skinny jeans, and Adidas sneakers, and then his open, smiling face, and Harry just. Couldn’t. Behind Louis, his teammates exchanged amused glances and murmured to each other. But Louis smiled, oblivious.

“I…Hi,” Harry finally managed, offering a weak wave. Then he was at a loss. What do you say when you speak to someone you’ve stargazed with and shared your deepest concerns? Harry had no idea.

But that seemed to be enough for Louis, because he turned to his teammates and explained, “Styles is the new photographer for the team. Say hello.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as each boy shrugged and introduced himself. Harry caught Stan and Calvin, but quickly forgot the rest. He had seen them in the halls plenty of times—who hadn’t?—but Harry never thought he would actually speak to them.

“Thanks, man,” a boy he thought was named Luke said. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thanks,” Harry murmured. “Good game, guys.”

Louis smiled at that, and then gestured toward a different table. “Let’s go sit before Stan eats his tray.”

The boys behind Louis laughed, and Louis turned back to Harry. “See you later,” he offered in farewell.

“Um. Later,” Harry replied, still in a daze. He watched the group of boys make their way to the popular table, and then looked down at his sad lunch.

Perrie returned a moment later to find Harry with his mouth still hanging open. “Were you just talking to Louis Tomlinson?” she hissed under her breath. “What did he say?”

Harry stared helplessly at Perrie. “He said…hello.”

Perrie raised her perfectly sculpted brows. “Ok…and?”

“See you later,” Harry replied mechanically. He blinked in confusion. “He…talked to me?”

Perrie took a contemplative bite of her ice cream. “Yep, he did. And the whole school saw.”

Harry’s eyes widened in panic, and he looked around at the rest of his classmates. Sure enough, some were staring at him and whispering to one another.

“Oh my god,” Harry breathed. “Everyone is staring.”

Perrie grinned and shrugged. “Not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened here.”

“Are we living in _High School Musical_ right now? Are people going to start singing about the status quo?” Harry said in a panic.

Perrie cackled and slapped a hand against the table. “God, I hope so.”

“Perrie,” Harry whispered frantically, “why did he talk to me?”

Perrie glanced at Louis’ table, then back to Harry. Her eyes danced with mirth. “Maybe he likes you.”

“Perrie, please. Be serious.”

“Dead serious,” she replied, making a “cross my heart” gesture.

“Oh god. I can never look him in the eye again,” Harry fretted.

“Aw, babe,” Perrie soothed. “It’s not as bad as you think. People have already moved on. See?”

Harry looked around nervously, only to find that Perrie was right. People had gone on about their business. Harry sighed in relief, and just then, his eyes connected with Louis’ across the room. Even from where Harry sat, he could see the electric blue of Louis’ eyes. He was surrounded by a crowd, but Louis stared intently at Harry like he was trying to figure something out. A small smile spread across Louis’ face then. He mouthed three words at Harry, never breaking eye contact, and then turned back to his friends.

It was just a moment, but for the hundredth time that lunch period, Harry’s jaw dropped. He blushed bright red in the fluorescent lights of the cafeteria. He turned back to Perrie to see her giving him a knowing smile over her ice cream. For the rest of lunch, and the rest of the school day, Louis’ words played through Harry’s mind on a loop. Even from a distance, there was no mistaking what he had said to Harry. It caused butterflies to dance in his stomach, and Harry was sure he was bushing permanently. He was confused and giddy and nervous all at once, and he had no idea what to do. Louis’ words were permanently etched in Harry’s brain.

_I see you._

_*_

When Harry was six years old, his mother, Anne had given him a Kodak disposable camera and a strange looking box. It was the day before his birthday, and Harry was playing on the rope swing in the backyard. He remembered it like it was yesterday. Harry had skidded to a stop when he saw Anne bearing gifts and climbed down from the swing that hung from a towering oak tree.

Harry had been begging for a disposable camera for months, after seeing one his older cousin had. And finally, here was one. Harry was so excited that he didn’t pay the old-looking box any attention.

“For me?” Harry had asked, brimming with excitement.

Anne laughed and nodded. “Yes, for you. Since you mentioned it maybe one or two…thousand times!”

Harry grinned and carefully took the camera from Anne’s outstretched hand. His first camera! It was bright yellow, had color film, according to the box, and could shoot 24 photos. The gears were already turning in Harry’s mind about what to photograph first. But Anne held up a hand of caution.

“There’s one more thing,” Anne explained. “My father gave this to me when I was your age, and now I think it’s time to pass it on.” She extended the box to Harry, and he took it with a puzzled brow.

“I…thank you?” Harry replied, and it came out as a question.

The box was smaller than a shoe box, a faded dark brown wood that was chipping a little around the edges. It certainly didn’t look like much. Carefully, Harry gave the box a shake, like he would do with the wrapped presents he received on Christmas. He couldn’t hear anything rattling inside, so he had no idea what the box contained.

“What is it?” Harry’s curiosity got the best of him.

Anne smiled enigmatically. “Figure it out.”

Harry frowned and tried to lift the lid of the box, but it wouldn’t budge. “How…?” he asked.

But Anne was already turning to head back inside the house. “Happy early birthday, Harry!” she called, and then she disappeared inside the house.

Harry stared down skeptically at the gift. It was old, that much was clear. Why had his mother given him this? Harry sat down in the soft grass and tried to pry the lid open. He looked for any buttons or latches on the box, but couldn’t find any. He eyed the brand new camera from his peripheral vision and sighed. If it wasn’t for this box, Harry would be taking photos of everything in the neighborhood by now. But Harry had always been stubborn, and he decided he wasn’t going back inside the house until he had opened the box and solved the puzzle.

Harry sat in the shade of the oak tree, watching sunlight filter down through the leaves onto the faded exterior of the box. He had never seen anything like this. Slowly, he ran his fingers over the plain wooden lid, just feeling. He traced his hands around the lid of the box, looking for something to make it spring open, to no avail. Harry sighed and dropped the box into his lap. It reminded him of the old pine music box his mother kept on her dresser with her nice things. Her grandmother had passed it down to her, and it was one of her most treasured items.

But Harry had no idea what this was. He pondered what might be inside as he traced the shape of the box. The lid clearly wasn’t meant to lift, like the music box did. So there had to be another way. Harry bit his lip in concentration and turned the box over in his small hands. An inscription on the bottom read _GS,_ which Harry recalled stood for Gene Styles, Harry’s grandfather. And now it was Harry’s. Well, it would be when he could get it open.

Finally, in desperation, Harry set the box aside and picked up the disposable camera. He looked stealthily over his shoulder to see if Anne was watching from the sliding door, and then opened the camera box. He carefully slid the yellow Kodak out of the box and examined it. It was the perfect size for his hands. Harry lifted the camera to his face and looked through the viewfinder, focusing on the old box sitting in the grass. He couldn’t resist clicking a photo of it. Harry had to resist from getting up and wandering around the yard taking photos. He could always do that later, after he had figured out the box.

Harry gingerly placed the camera beside him on the grass and picked up the box. He couldn’t lift the lid, but maybe, if he just pushed it a little…yes…there! The lid was designed to slide off, not lift. Harry gasped softly and slid the lid off the top of the box. Finally!

Inside, there was only one item: an old photograph of Anne when she was Harry’s age, sitting in a man’s lap who must have been Gene. Harry had never met his grandfather, who had passed away before Harry was born. Harry lifted the photo by the faded edges and looked closely. There, Gene had dark curls similar to Harry’s, but blue eyes instead of green. He was cradling Anne in his lap, and smiling so big his eyes crinkled at the sides. In his lap, Anne was wearing a yellow dress with her hair in two braids. She was smiling too. Harry curiously turned the photo over. On the back, in careful cursive, someone had written _Gene and Anne, 1980._ Harry had never seen this photo before in albums.

Harry smiled, having finally solved the box, and laid the photo carefully back inside. Then he snapped one more photo, of the open box with the picture inside. He gathered up his gifts and skipped proudly back to the house to show Anne. When she saw Harry with the open box, she smiled.

“Well done, Harry! I knew you could do it.”

“This is you and grandpa Gene, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“Yes, it is,” Anne replied with a fond smile. “He gave me this box when I was six, like you. It was my treasure box for years. I would put special things inside and then slide it closed, like a lock. I thought it was time to pass it on so someone else could put their treasures inside.”

“What do I put inside?” Harry asked eagerly.

Anne hummed in thought for a moment. “Anything that’s special that you’d like to save. You can put it in your room. For now, I have an idea. We can carry on tradition.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in excitement. “What are we going to do?”

“How about we put a picture inside, like I did when I was your age? Where’s your camera?”

Harry extended the Kodak to Anne and smiled. “What should we take a picture of?”

“How about us?” Anne asked. She knelt down to Harry’s level and carefully turned the camera so the lens was focused on her and Harry’s faces. “Smile,” she murmured, and then clicked the shutter. Harry grinned as the flash blinded him for a moment.

“Now when we get them developed, you can put our picture inside the box,” Anne concluded. “Until you find something special to add to your collection.”

Harry had placed the old box on his dresser, where it stayed for years, slowly collecting items. A vintage baseball card he had found; his best photos from different beginner cameras; a ticket stub for the Script concert he attended at fifteen. Harry intended to keep the box until he had someone to pass it down to as well.

The unique birthday present had made a lifelong memory for Harry, and now, at seventeen, whenever he faced puzzles of various kinds, he thought of the treasure box. He had learned the hard way that some things, though difficult to figure out, were always worth it in the end.

Harry reflected on this as he trudged to the darkroom after school that day that Louis spoke to him.

 _I see you_ , Louis had said across the room, and Harry was at his wit’s end. He felt six years old again, sitting there with a box that didn’t open. What did it all mean?

 _Maybe nothing,_ a voice in Harry’s head told him, and the thought left a lump in Harry’s throat. What if it didn’t mean anything, and Louis was just a nice guy who liked to make friends? What if Louis had already forgotten about Harry? Meanwhile, Harry was consumed with thoughts about Louis. He had a feeling Louis was someone you didn’t get over soon. And didn’t that figure? Now, when Harry needed to focus most, to have zero distractions so he could dedicate himself to his art; now, of all times, he had a crush on the most unattainable human on the planet?

The photography lab was nearly empty, and the Professor was gone for the day. Harry shot Perrie a text asking if she wanted to have taco night at his house. Then he sat down on a lumpy secondhand couch with an old sketchbook. He flipped through the pages distractedly, looking for ideas for his senior project. There were tons of sketches and song lyrics and collages in this book, which Harry had filled during his junior year. There were sketches of Perrie on a swing set at the park, and his mother making lasagna from scratch at home, and various landscapes. On the last page, toward the end of junior year when his senior project was impending, Harry had written some Coldplay lyrics: “Nobody said it was easy.”

If it applied to several areas of his life now, Harry understood the lyrics even better. Nobody ever told him the real world would be simple; Harry knew that all along. But wasn’t senior year a time for fun and celebration and making memories? Harry looked around at the now-empty lab, and sighed. So far, senior year had all been about stress and anxiety and fear of failure. And being alone.

A text shook Harry out of his mood, and he saw it was from Perrie. She had always loved taco night.

 _Gracias! I’ll be there!_ She had written as a reply. Harry smiled and closed his sketchbook. He packed up and then headed home to start on the taco preparation. He was still perplexed about Louis, and had no leads for his project, but for once Harry wasn’t going home to an empty house. His night was looking up.

*

After tacos, ice cream, and a night of great conversation with Perrie and Anne, Harry felt like a new man. He washed the dishes and wiped down the countertops, and then collapsed on the couch with a tired smile. Harry dug his phone out of his back pocket and added a picture of Perrie taking a bite of her hard-shell taco to Instagram. He had always been a fan of the black and white aesthetic. As he finished posting the photo, Harry noticed the little icon for a new follower. That was odd in and of itself; Harry had a small group of followers, unlike Perrie who had around 700.

Harry clicked on the icon to find that a louisthetommo had followed him. Harry frowned and tapped the person’s photo to check out their page, hoping it wasn’t more spam. And then Harry’s jaw dropped.

It was Louis Tomlinson.

A strange feeling, like butterflies, rose in his stomach and his eyes widened. Harry couldn’t believe it. For there, smiling up from the small icon was Louis. Harry’s eyebrows rose when he noticed Louis had nearly twice the number of followers Perrie did; however, he only followed 45 people. And Harry was one of them.

Sure enough, there was Louis in a series of photos ranging from the soccer field to parties to a large family. The photos were full of people and life and excitement, and Harry smiled at the thought of Louis being surrounded by so much love.

Harry’s Instagram wasn’t exactly a mystery; he was simply harry_styles, and his account was public. Even so, Harry imagined his profile wasn’t one to show up on Louis’ “people you may know” feature. Which means Louis had gone looking for him.

Only when Harry sucked in a deep breath did he realize he had been holding his breath. He numbly closed out of Instagram and pulled up his latest message with Perrie. Harry’s fingers shook a little as he typed, _Louis followed me on Instagram wtf?_

Harry sighed and let his head fall back against the couch cushion. Instagram wasn’t a big deal; Harry knew that. He hated feeling like such a, well, teenager about this. But he couldn’t help but be excited. While he waited for Perrie’s response, Harry distractedly returned to his Instagram. He scrolled through his recent photos, most all of them black and white, trying to see them from Louis’ eyes. Were his photos cool looking? Did they have a good number of likes? And was Harry supposed to follow Louis back? What was the etiquette for social media and crushes?!

Perrie’s message came moments later with the confetti emoji. _Way to go, H! Did you follow him back?_

Harry hesitated a moment, then went back to Louis’ profile. How long was he supposed to wait to follow back without seeming desperate? _Should I?_ He asked Perrie.

Her answer was immediate. _Do you want to?_

Harry groaned and smashed his face into a nearby pillow. He hated drama as a rule, and yet here he was, stuck ankle deep in it.

 _Maybe. Yes._ Harry replied.

 _Go for it, babe_ , Perrie responded.

Heart racing and hands shaking a little, Harry’s finger hovered over the follow button. His practical side told him that Louis had so many followers, he wouldn’t notice one more. No harm done. Might as well do it.

Harry clicked the follow button. He was officially following Louis.

Harry let out a sigh, and felt his pulse return to a normal rate. He relaxed into the couch cushions and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. There. It was done. Harry closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peace of his quiet living room.

Two things happened at once then. First, Harry got a text notification, probably from Perrie. He reached blindly for his phone, eyes still closed. Harry cracked one eye open and stared at his screen, where Perrie had asked, _Did you do it?_

Second, before he could respond to the text, Harry’s phone dinged again. It was a direct message on Instagram. Harry frowned and squinted at the screen to make sure he was seeing things right. No one ever messaged him on Instagram. But there it was.

Curiosity got the best of Harry, and he opened Instagram to see what was going on. He clicked on the little inbox icon that usually sat empty and opened the message. There, none other than louisthetommo had written: _Hi, how are you?_

Harry’s eyes widened with alarm. What was he supposed to say? I’m great? How are you? Why are you talking to me?

Perrie’s next message came through just then. _The suspense is killing me here._

Harry sat frozen for a moment, unsure what to do first. Then he focused on the Instagram message. He had to reply.

 _harry_styles: I’m good, thanks. How are you?_ The reply came seconds later.

_louisthetommo: Great. I like your pics._

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. What? Before he could reply, another message from Perrie popped up on his screen. _HARRY. What’s going on?_

And honestly? Harry had no clue. _Louis direct messaged me. He likes my photos?_

 _Oh my god,_ Perrie answered seconds later. _This is not a drill. He’s flirting with you!_

Harry blushed, in spite of himself. He was glad his mother had already gone up to bed and wasn’t witnessing this event.

 _What do I say?_ Harry asked Perrie, resisting the urge to bite his fingernails. It was an old habit he had mostly broken.

 _Say thank you!_ She replied.

Harry returned to his Instagram inbox and wrote a nervous reply.

_harry_styles: Thank you! How’s your night going?_

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. He was in uncharted waters here. But the reply came less than a minute later.

_louisthetommo: Pretty good. Your cute._

Harry actually dropped his phone into his lap. Poor grammar aside, yes, that was flirting. Harry pushed his curls back impatiently from his face and picked his phone back up.

 _He called me cute,_ Harry typed to Perrie. Three gray dots symbolized an immediate response.

_OMG Harry he likes you! What are you going to say??_

Harry shrugged helplessly and replied, _I have no idea._ He went back to the conversation with louisthetommo and replied.

_harry_styles: um. Thank you?_

Harry had no idea flirting was this nerve-wracking. Maybe one day he and Louis would look back on this and laugh, sitting on their porch swing drinking lemonade together. But for now, it was utterly awkward. If Harry was out of his depth, the reply that came made him even more confused.

 _louisthetommo: oh my god. I’m so sorry Harry_.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

_harry_styles: what?_

_louisthetommo: my sisters have my phone and they’ve been messaging you. I’m going to kill them, I’m really sorry._

The bottom dropped out for Harry then. He squeezed his eyes closed in mortification and shook his head as if to wake himself from this dream. But when he opened his eyes, he was still in his mother’s living room, with a message from Louis open on his Instagram. Oh god. What was Harry going to say now?

_harry_styles: haha that’s ok, just watch where you leave your phone from now on._

_louisthetommo: believe me, I will. I’m so sorry, really. Hope you have a good night._

_harry_styles: thanks, you too._

What else could Harry say? When the next message came in from Perrie, Harry felt ten years older. For some reason, tears brimmed in his eyes. He was embarrassed, obviously, but he also felt stupid. Of course Louis wasn’t hitting on him. Of course he didn’t think Harry was cute. It was all just a misunderstanding. Harry had gotten his hopes up for nothing. God.

 _What’s going on, Harry?_ Perrie asked. Harry could practically feel the worry coming in waves from her phone.

 _Tell you tomorrow_ , was all Harry could manage. He trudged up the stairs to bed and for the first time in a long time, turned off his phone.

*

If Harry dreaded school before, it was nothing compared to the feeling of walking the halls the next day at Jackson High School. The same faces passed him in the halls in a blur; the same professors stood at their classroom doors watching students with arms crossed and a wary eye. It even smelled the same, like industrial lemon cleaner and cheap perfume. Harry didn’t think it was possible for his anxiety to rise any more, but it had. After a nearly sleepless night, spent wallowing in his own naivete, Harry blearily threw on clothes and headed to school.

For a moment, Harry imagined rounding the corner and seeing Louis Tomlinson standing at his locker again. What would Harry say? The thought had plagued him all night, and he still had no idea. What do you say to someone you kind of flirted with, only to find out it was a joke? God, how was Harry supposed to know these things? Why was he learning advanced algebra when he desperately needed to know how to talk to a crush?

Louis was not waiting at Harry’s locker.

A sense of relief, along with heavy disappointment flooded Harry. He wearily opened his locker, got his books for his morning classes, and headed up the stairs to photography class. At least there he knew what he was doing.

Perrie was waiting with an empty seat for Harry when he entered the classroom. The professor had not arrived yet, so Harry braced himself for the conversation that was sure to come. He could barely meet Perrie’s eyes as he took the seat beside her.

“God, H, what happened?” she whispered. “You know I love you, but you look like shit.”

Harry laughed humorlessly and turned in his seat to face Perrie. “It was all a joke.”

Perrie frowned. “A…joke? Surely Louis wouldn’t’ do that.”

Harry smiled grimly. “His sisters would. They were the ones messaging me.”

Perrie’s mouth formed a perfect O. “No…no!”

“Yep. When Louis caught them, he apologized to me.”

“So then…”

“So he wasn’t the one calling me cute. He never thought that, ok? It was dumb to assume,” Harry replied, laying his head down on his folded arms on the desk.

“Oh, Harry,” Perrie began, eyes filled with emotion. Just then, Professor Swift walked in.

“Saved by the bell,” Harry quipped as he sat up straighter in his seat. He turned to face the professor and tried to put all thoughts of Louis out of his mind.

“Good morning, class!” Professor Swift greeted. “I hope you’re up for a challenge this week.”

Harry groaned internally. A challenge? Existing itself was a challenge for Harry lately; he didn’t need any more.

“I’ve spoken to several other professors, and they agreed to participate in our assignment,” the professor continued. He rubbed his hands together in excitement. “This week, you’re going to be photographing someone you don’t know very well.”

The class grumbled in unison, and the professor chuckled. “Now, now. The goal of this assignment is to portray an unfamiliar subject in a familiar way. Think outside the box, everyone. This is a unique opportunity. Your camera will give you access to people and places you might not otherwise go.”

Harry’s mind was already spinning. He cast a wary eye at Perrie to find her already looking at him. She had a speculative expression that didn’t bode well for Harry; he knew this from experience.

“What I’m looking for, as always, is heart. Capture a moment that reveals the true nature of a person or place.” The professor looked at his watch and then smiled at the class. “You have the rest of class time to brainstorm ideas and start your project. Good luck!”

The class began chatting at a low volume then, discussing ideas for the project. Harry turned to Perrie, bracing himself for whatever crazy idea she had.

“So,” she began, tapping a purple pen against the desk in thought. “We’re supposed to think outside the box. Photograph people we don’t know well.”

“Yes?” Harry agreed, but it came out as a question.

“People we don’t know well, but might like to know,” Perrie continued, raising her eyebrows at Harry. It took Harry a moment to catch on. He blamed the early morning class.

“Oh no. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Perrie exclaimed.

“I do. And the answer is no,” Harry said flatly.

“What was I going to say then?” she challenged, narrowing her eyes.

“You were going to suggest I work with Louis for the project.”

Perrie sighed and deflated a bit. “Ok. Yes, that was the plan. But why not? This would give you a chance to clear the air about the Instagram catastrophe.”

“The air doesn’t need clearing, though. It was a simple, humiliating misunderstanding that I would like very much to forget,” Harry replied tonelessly. He flipped through his spiral notebook until he landed on a blank page.

When he glanced up at Perrie, Harry found her to be smiling sadly. “If that’s what you want.”

“Definitely,” Harry insisted. “Now. What are we going to do?”

The pair brainstormed ideas together until the bell rang, and then Harry said goodbye and headed to the journalism classroom. Liam, Niall and Zayn were grouped together around someone’s phone, watching a video. Jade was in deep discussion with Ed and Professor James about something. So Harry dropped his things at a nearby desk and sat down. He looked at his notes from photography class that he and Perrie had come up with. It wasn’t much. After a few moments of doodling in the margins, a voice called out to Harry.

“Hey, man! How’s it going?” Niall asked, rounding Harry’s desk and sitting down beside him. Harry was glad to see Niall; maybe this was the break he needed from a stressful morning.

“Hey, Niall. How’s it going?” Harry replied.

Niall grinned and shrugged. “It’s going. Hey, what are you doing Friday?”

Harry mirrored Niall’s shrug. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Listen, Liam is having a party at his parents’ house. He said to spread the word. You should totally come, man!”

Harry was tempted to say no as a rule, but then he thought about it. Not like he had any other plans. Harry nodded tentatively, and Niall beamed back at him.

“Oh! And you should bring your friend, Perrie, right? She’s fun.”

“O…kay?” Harry replied with a slight frown. Of course things would be more fun with Perrie there, so why not. “I’ll let her know.”

“Awesome!” Niall exclaimed, patting Harry on the shoulder. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

*

At the end of the day, Harry was surprised to round the corner and see Zayn standing at his locker. Zayn had his back to Harry, but Harry couldn’t miss the jet black hair, vintage Rolling Stones tee, and black jeans. Harry was a little nervous as he approached; Zayn was just so cool, and why would he be waiting to talk to him?

“Zayn?” Harry greeted, and it came out as a question.

Zayn turned and offered Harry a rare smile. He stepped aside so Harry could open his locker and get his bag. “Hey, Harry,” Zayn replied. “How’s it going?”

Harry shrugged and tried to smile. “Going, I guess. What’s up?”

Zayn took a step closer. “I heard you might be going to Liam’s party? Niall was talking really loud in journalism today.”

Harry frowned a little and nodded. “Yeah, I told Niall I would go. Why?”

Zayn bit his lip, like he was considering how to answer. “I don’t guess you’ve been to one of Liam’s parties before?”

Harry blushed; he couldn’t help it. “Um, no.”

“That’s ok, man. I wasn’t trying to—it’s just, ok. It’s just gonna be a wild kind of night, if I know Liam and his friends. I was just thinking you might like someone to hang out with? You know, if you get bored or whatever.”

It was the most Harry had ever heard Zayn speak at once, and Harry was impressed. And he was touched by Zayn’s offer.

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Harry replied. “Perrie’s coming with me, but it would be nice to know someone there.”

Zayn’s expression relaxed a little, and he smiled. “We’ll make sure you have fun, ok? Just maybe not too much fun.”

Harry smiled lopsidedly. “Thank you, Zayn.”

Zayn’s answering smile was bright. “Anytime. Now, tell me about this photography project everyone is talking about.”

Harry’s stomach dropped, and he looked at his shoes. “Well, um. I don’t exactly, like…have anything yet.”

“Hmm,” Zayn said contemplatively. “So you have to choose someone really different from yourself?”

“Basically,” Harry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and closing his locker.

“I mean…I’m free if you’re looking for someone,” Zayn suggested.

Harry’s eyes widened and rose hopefully to look at Zayn’s face. “You mean…?”

“I’ll be your person, if you’d like.”

Harry scanned Zayn’s face for any signs of doubt or discomfort, but there were none. Zayn just smiled placidly back at Harry, dark eyes shining with mirth.

“I…can’t thank you enough, Zayn. Really. You literally just saved the day.”

Zayn shrugged and dug in his pocket for what Harry suspected was a pack of cigarettes. “It’s no problem, man. Just seemed like you could use some help.”

“That’s for sure,” Harry smiled wryly.

“You could bring your camera to the party on Friday, and we can go from there,” Zayn suggested.

Harry hadn’t even thought of that. It was a great idea. “Yeah, I think I will!”

“Good deal. Well, I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to you later, man.”

“Thanks, Zayn. See you later,” Harry replied. He waved Zayn off and then stood there in the emptying hall, just processing what had happened in the space of three minutes. He had gone from no ideas for his project to a willing model. Harry suspected Zayn was trying to look out for him, even though they weren’t close friends. Yet, anyway, Harry amended. He could really use a friend like Zayn in his corner.

*

Perrie was thrilled about the party invite, and by the time Friday rolled around, she already had her outfit and makeup planned. Now, she was standing in Harry’s messy closet just hours before the party, looking for something “cool” for him to wear. Harry had news for Perrie—he didn’t have any cool clothes.

“Oh god, we might have to go shopping,” Perrie groaned, flipping through a rack of flannel shirts and polos.

“Absolutely not,” Harry said flatly, from where he was sprawled out on the bed.

“Where are your skinny jeans?” Perrie asked, voice a little muffled from the closet.

“Those jeans you got me for Christmas? I don’t know,” Harry frowned.

Perrie dug through piles of identical faded jeans until she said “Aha!” and emerged with a folded pair of jeans. “They still have the tag on them!” She accused, pointing at the jeans. “Harry!”

Harry grinned and shrugged. “They were tight! They look like your jeans.”

“They look cool!” Perrie exclaimed. “Put these on. I have to find a shirt.”

Harry frowned. “What’s wrong with the one I’m wearing?” He looked down at the plain black tee he had on. Yes, it had a little hole in the shoulder and he’d had it since middle school, but who cared?

“Harry, work with me here. We’re not doing a total makeover—“

“Never again,” Harry grumbled.

“…but this is a high school milestone, going to a cool party. You need to dress the part.”

Harry sighed and rolled off the bed into a standing position. Maybe Perrie was right. He didn’t want to show up looking like a bum. Who knew who would be there? Not that Harry was looking for anyone in particular. He wasn’t there to find a date. He just needed to take a few photos of Zayn for his project and get out of there.

“How about this one?” Harry asked, pulling a black sweater out of the back of his closet. It had been a gift from his mother, probably. It was a little tighter than Harry was comfortable with, as he put it on. But maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

Harry traded his looser, faded jeans for the skinnies Perrie was still holding. He gasped as he pulled them up his legs, amazed at how tight they were. How did anyone move in these? Once he was dressed, though, Perrie guided Harry to stand in front of his mirror. Even Harry had to admit he looked like he belonged in this decade now. He shrugged and then nodded.

“Works for me.”

“Aww, Harry. You look so nice! Look how long your legs are! I’m kind of jealous,” Perrie sighed.

“Thank you?” Harry asked. “You look nice, too.”

Perrie beamed and checked her own outfit in the mirror. She was wearing a loose cropped tee and a short denim skirt with some strappy sandals.

“Thanks! Ready to go?” she asked.

Harry sighed and grabbed his camera bag. “I guess.” Might as well get this over with.

As if reading his mind, Perrie smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder. “Don’t worry; we’re going to have fun.”

Harry swallowed down his nervousness and followed Perrie out the door into the cool autumn night. How bad could one party be?

*

Harry and Perrie walked up the sidewalk to Liam’s parents’ house to the sound of bass thudding and voices shouting. The music was so loud, Harry worried the neighbors might complain. He instinctively held his camera bag closer to his chest as they approached the front door.

“Do we knock, or?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows at Perrie. She shrugged and raised her hand to knock when suddenly the door flew open. They were greeted by a rosy-cheeked Niall, holding a red solo cup.

“Harry and pretty Perrie!” Niall exclaimed in welcome. “I saw you guys walk up. Come on in!”

Harry cut his eyes to Perrie, only to find her already looking at him. There was a moment of hesitation, and then Perrie nodded minutely. They would give it a try.

Harry turned back to Niall and smiled tentatively. “Thanks, Niall. Just for a few minutes, ok?”

Niall threw back his head and laughed, although Harry hadn’t meant to make a joke. “Sure, sure. Come in! I’ll make you guys my specialty drink, you’ll love it.”

Harry shared a concerned look with Perrie, but followed Niall into the house. They wove through a sea of bodies, and Harry spotted a few familiar faces. There were guys from the Jaguars soccer team, and some people Harry shared classes with but never spoke to. Everyone was laughing and shouting to be heard over the music, and generally having fun. Harry didn’t see any adults around, and tried to shake off his sense of dread.

Niall led Harry and Perrie into the kitchen, a spacious room with gleaming countertops and stainless steel appliances Harry had only seen on HGTV. He high fived and greeted people as he went, seeming to know everyone. At the end of the kitchen counter, currently littered with cups and bottles of unfamiliar liquor, a small group was gathered.

Niall cheered a hello, and everyone turned to smile and say hello. There was an awkward moment where Harry worried they would take one look at him and show him the door, but the crowd just offered hellos and went back to their business, which appeared to be mixing drinks.

“Now,” Niall said, rolling up his sleeves. “I’m going to make you the Niall special.”

Niall grabbed two red solo cups, poured in what looked to be lemonade, and then reached for a bottle. Harry didn’t recognize the name, but that didn’t surprise him. Niall poured a generous serving of the liquor into their cups and flashed them a grin. “A little party never killed nobody,” he shrugged innocently. Niall handed the cups to Harry and Perrie with a flourish and a little bow.

“Enjoy, friends! Now, let’s go say hi to Liam. I think the rest of the Journal crew is already here,” Niall explained, leading them out into the living room.

Harry took a sniff of his drink, and the alcohol was potent. He could only imagine what it tasted like. He glanced at Perrie for a cue, and found her taking a sip of the concoction. Her eyes widened comically, and she coughed subtly. She returned Harry’s stare.

“Glad we’re not driving,” she mouthed to Harry.

Harry nodded and took a sip of his drink too, not wanting to get left behind. He understood Perrie’s reaction immediately. The lemonade was tart, and the alcohol burned on the way down his throat. It left a strange, sweet aftertaste in his mouth.

Harry looked up in time to see Liam standing with a group of friends. Liam looked their way and broke into an easy grin.

“Hey Harry! So glad you could make it,” Liam said politely, even as he took a gulp of his own drink. “And Perrie, right?” Liam addressed Perrie with a smile.

Perrie nodded and lifted her glass in cheers. “Thanks for having us. Great party!”

Liam beamed. “Make yourselves at home, guys. Oh, I think that’s the pizza, I’ll be back,” he replied, hurrying down a hallway.

Harry turned to Perrie and Niall and took another baby sip of his drink. It still tasted awful, but everyone else appeared to be drinking it too. Might as well.

Niall was a great conversationalist, luckily, so in no time Harry and Perrie were chatting with Niall and some classmates. A few minutes into the party, Zayn strolled up to Harry, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He nodded politely to Perrie, who smiled and blushed—Harry would be teasing her later about that—and then spoke to Harry.

“Don’t drink that.”

Harry giggled a little as he took another sip, already feeling carefree and relaxed. “Um. Too late,” Harry said, nodding to his half-empty glass. Or was if half full? Who knew.

Harry took in Zayn’s leather jacket, skinny jeans with rips in the knees, and cool sneakers. He looked like the quintessential high school rebel. Harry had no idea why he was wasting time talking to someone like Harry, but oh well.

“I guess if you guys are drinking, I’ll have one too,” Zayn said, patting Harry’s shoulder as he headed into the kitchen. “I’ll be back.”

Harry nodded and smiled as Zayn sauntered off. He turned to find Perrie watching him walk away, eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol.

Niall came in and out of Harry’s peripheral, introducing them to classmates and offering refills. Harry soon found himself chatting with one of the soccer players about an upcoming game. It appeared that the next home game was a big deal for the team, and they had been practicing even harder than usual.

“Tommo’s not letting us slack off, that’s for sure,” the player, who Harry believed was named Cal, was saying.

At the mention of Louis, Harry’s heart beat a little faster. He had not even considered Louis might be going to the party tonight, but it made sense. He was Liam’s best friend. Suddenly, Harry felt self-conscious. Did he look dorky? Were people staring at him? Harry looked around covertly and discovered that no one was looking at him strangely. He chatted a little more with Cal, and then excused himself to go find Zayn, who had never returned. Perrie was also missing.

Harry had a moment of panic when he realized he was at a party alone, but then he found his feet leading him into the kitchen. A couple girls he recognized from Bio were mixing drinks, and Harry approached them with his empty cup. A little further into their drinking than Harry was, the girls greeted Harry and cheerfully poured him another drink, this time a red punch that smelled like cherry Kool-Aid.

“Ooh, is that a camera?” One of the girls asked, sloshing her drink in excitement.

Harry had almost forgotten about the camera bag slung over his shoulder. Oops.

“Um, yeah,” he replied, uncertain where this was going.

“Oh my god, will you take our picture? We’re like, best friends,” the other girl slurred.

There was no telling if they were actually best friends, or just drinking buddies. Who was Harry to judge though? He looked around to make sure he wasn’t attracting a crowd, and discovered everyone else was preoccupied doing their own thing.

Harry grinned and shrugged. “Just one, ok?”

The girls cheered and stood with their arms around each other, posing. Harry snapped a photo of them, and the girls thanked Harry profusely. He smiled and glanced at their nearly empty cups.

“Take it easy,” he advised them, then wandered off with his drink.

Harry found Perrie on the couch next to Niall, laughing about something. Perrie was drinking steadily from her solo cup, probably another one of Niall’s creations. Harry grinned as Niall gestured wildly with his hands, making Perrie burst out laughing. He had never imagined they would get on so well, but why not? Perrie was fun, and Niall was fun. Everyone was fun, Harry thought with a smile, feeling like he was one with the partygoers. Ok, maybe he was a little buzzed. But why not, for once?

Perrie looked up as Harry approached. She broke out into a grin and held her arms out for a hug. Harry glanced at Niall and exchanged a knowing smile. Perrie might have been drunk, but Harry, and now apparently Niall, would keep an eye on her. Harry accepted the hug from his best friend.

“Having fun?” he asked, and Perrie giggled.

“Like, so much fun,” she replied, linking arms with Niall. Niall grinned and patted her arm.

“Good,” Harry smiled. “Anyone seen Zayn?”

Niall and Perrie shook their heads. “Nope. Haven’t seen him in a while, actually,” Niall admitted with a faint frown. “Oh, look—now it’s a party!”

Perrie and Harry turned to follow Niall’s line of sight just in time to see Louis Tomlinson walk in. He high-fived and hugged friends as he made his way to Liam. Louis was dressed in simple skinny jeans and a blue tee, but he looked effortlessly cool and at ease.

“Lou!” Liam exclaimed, opening his arms for a hug. Harry noticed that Louis had to stand on tiptoe to hug a much taller Liam. It made butterflies flutter in Harry’s stomach for some reason. He sighed and took a long drink of his punch. He wasn’t drunk enough to handle Louis.

Liam led Louis into the kitchen, presumably to get a drink, and Harry turned back to his friends. “I’m going to look for Zayn,” he said, and Niall and Perrie lifted their cups in cheers. Harry smiled and headed off in search for Zayn.

Harry wove his way through the crowd in the living room to the front door, thinking Zayn might be outside smoking. He found a couple making out on the porch steps, but no Zayn. On his way back in the house, Harry ran into Cal again.

“Hey man! Lara from my Bio class said you have a cool camera!” The music was still pounding through the house, so Cal had to raise his voice, meaning several people around turned to Harry curiously. He blushed under the sudden scrutiny.

“Oh, um. Yeah,” Harry replied uncertainly. He gestured to the camera slung over his shoulder.

“Awesome! You should take a picture of us,” Cal suggested, grabbing two friends who were passing by.

“I…ok,” Harry replied. At the sound of the word “picture,” several other people crowded around Cal and Harry. By the time Harry adjusted the shutter speed for the low light, a generous crowd was gathered for the photo.

“Um…smile and say ‘party,’” Harry instructed. Amazingly to Harry, the crowd obeyed.

“Party!” they all cheered on three, and Harry snapped the photo.

Several people Harry had only seen in the halls at school now crowded around to hug him and say thanks. Harry was floored by the reaction, but tried to smile and greet everyone who said hello. He briefly wondered if this is what his professor meant when he said, “think outside the box.”

Harry eventually made his way back into the living room. He was greeted by a tipsy cheer from Niall and Perrie. The two were now joined by Ed and Jade, members of the Jackson Journal.

“Harry!” Perrie cried. “I was just telling them about our project. They want to help!”

Harry raised his eyebrows and scanned the faces in front of him. Everyone was smiling and sipping their drinks, so Harry shrugged. “What did you have in mind?”

Niall jumped up and offered a hand to Perrie. She smiled and took his hand, standing a little uneasily on her high heels.

“Follow me,” Niall said to the group, and everyone shrugged and trailed behind Niall. He led them out the back door to a spacious yard with a brightly lit pool.

“Liam’s parents keep it heated until November,” Niall said with a conspiratorial wink. He led the group to the edge of the pool, and then turned with a smile.

“These chickens don’t believe I’ll jump in,” Niall began, pointing to Ed and Jade, who burst out laughing. “So I challenge all of you…to strip.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, Perrie squawked out a laugh, and everyone joined in laughing. But Niall was serious.

“Harry, try to get a shot of us jumping in,” Niall instructed, peeling off his sweater. His skin was soon covered in goosebumps in the cool night air.

Harry watched in amazement as everyone began to follow suit, undressing down to their underwear. Surely this wasn’t normal, Harry thought to himself. But he began adjusting the camera settings for the evening light all the same.

Niall, Perrie, Jade and Ed stood shivering slightly in their underwear at the edge of the pool. By then, a decent crowd had formed and had begun chanting, “Jump! Jump! Jump!”

Niall cackled and grabbed Perrie’s hand, who grabbed Jade’s. Jade took Ed’s hand, linking them all together.

“Not too late to back out,” Harry called to Niall over the chanting. Niall just looked over his shoulder and shook his head.

“Count us off, Harry,” Niall instructed.

Harry grinned and brought the viewfinder of the camera up to his eye. “One.”

Harry saw Perrie squeeze Niall’s hand and nervously look over her shoulder. “Two.”

The crowd cheered louder, and it sounded to Harry like the entire party had migrated out to see this.

“Three!”

At the sound of three, the four friends jumped. The crowd went wild. Harry had a great view from the side of the pool, and snapped the shutter the moment they took off. The splash they made was huge, soaking the side of Harry’s sweater and jeans. He carefully held his camera away from the commotion in the pool.

Niall emerged from the water to the sound of applause, and waved at the crowd. Perrie surfaced and squealed at the freezing temperature.

“You said this was heated!” she gasped at Niall.

“Did I?” Niall asked with a wicked grin. “Oops.”

“Oops? Are you kidding me?!” Jade yelled, swimming towards Niall. She reached out to dunk his head under, and Niall darted away.

The crowd laughed and began to disperse. Liam appeared out of nowhere with a stack of towels. Harry stepped back as the soaked friends clambered out of the pool. Perrie’s teeth were chattering.

“I hope you got that shot, H,” she said to Harry, shivering.

“Got it,” Harry promised, slinging the camera back over his shoulder. He held out a towel for Perrie, and she took it gladly.

“Heated my ass,” she grumbled, wringing water out of her hair. “That was freezing!”

“At least you got a good shot,” Ed quipped, shaking water out of his ears.

“Did you ever find Zayn?” Perrie asked as she toweled off.

“No,” Harry frowned, scanning the crowd outside.

“He’ll turn up,” Niall assured Harry.

Harry wasn’t so sure, but he nodded to Niall. Eventually, everyone was dry enough to get dressed and head back into the house. Harry made a beeline for the kitchen to get another cup of punch, suddenly feeling thirsty.

Harry helped himself to another red solo cup and poured a drink from the punch pitcher.

“That stuff will kill you, curly.”

Harry whirled around, sloshing his drink a little, and came face to face with an amused looking Louis Tomlinson. He was holding a cup of his own, though, so Harry didn’t feel too bad.

“They only warned me about Niall’s drinks, not these,” Harry said, gesturing to his punch.

“Ah, well the punch is worse because it actually tastes good.”

“That makes no sense,” Harry said, taking a step closer to Louis. This close, he could tell Louis’ eyes were a little glazed from drinking, and his tanned face was tinted red.

“You make no sense,” Louis countered back.

Harry found himself giggling. “How drunk are you, anyway?”

“Not enough,” Louis admitted, staring into his cup. “But I’m getting there.”

“I think we all are,” Harry replied with a lopsided smile. He clinked his cup against Louis’.

Louis lifted his eyes to meet Harry’s, and for a moment he just stared. Harry had no idea what was going on. But he couldn’t look away.

Finally, Louis spoke. His voice was a little slurred as he said, “My sisters were right, you know.”

Harry frowned, staring into Louis’ blue eyes. “What?”

“You are really talented. And cute,” Louis said, hiccupping slightly.

Harry’s eyes popped open in surprise. Surely Louis didn’t just say…

“I am?” Harry asked, completely amazed.

“Yep,” Louis said, popping the “p” at the end. He offered Harry a small smile.

There were those pesky butterflies again, disrupting Harry’s inner peace. He couldn’t help but smile back though.

“Thank you. But you’re drunk.”

Louis giggled a little and rolled his eyes. “Drunk, not blind.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Louis raised his eyebrows, and his smile grew wider. “What are you suggesting?”

Harry was completely out of his depth here. Obviously they were both drunk, and chances are Louis wouldn’t even remember this conversation tomorrow. But Harry didn’t want it to end.

“Next time you see me, if you even remember this conversation—“

Louis scoffed and put his hand on his hip, ready to protest.

“…give me a high five.”

Louis eyed Harry suspiciously. “You’re testing me.”

Harry grinned and sipped his punch. “Maybe.”

“Shake on it?” Louis asked, offering his hand.

Harry extended his hand before his brain even knew what was happening. He curled his fingers around Louis’ hand, surprised to find it smaller and more delicate than his own. The moment they touched, Harry felt little sparks erupt. He must be drunker than he thought. But he didn’t let go of Louis’ hand.

“Deal,” Harry said with a smile.

“Deal,” Louis echoed, mirroring Harry’s smile.

“Ok,” Harry replied, shaking Louis’ hand.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder then, and turned in surprise to find Zayn. He dropped Louis’ hand in confusion. How long had Zayn been standing there?

Judging by Zayn’s amused expression, long enough. Harry blushed under his gaze, and turned back to find Louis staring at Zayn.

“Malik,” Louis nodded politely.

“Tomlinson,” Zayn replied with a wry smile. “I’m gonna borrow Harry for a minute.”

“Sure, sure. Um. Have a good night, Harry,” Louis said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Every cell in Harry’s body was screaming to stay right there and keep talking to Louis, but he nodded mechanically and let Zayn lead him out the kitchen and out to the backyard.

Harry felt more sober the moment he hit the chilly autumn air. With that came a measure of embarrassment. What had just happened with Louis? What would have happened next if Zayn hadn’t interrupted?

As if reading his mind, Zayn led Harry to sit beside him on the porch steps and said, “You’ll thank me later.”

Harry frowned and looked down at his scuffed converse. “Maybe.”

“Nothing good ever happens after 2 am,” Zayn continued. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise to learn of the time. It felt like he had only been at Liam’s for an hour or so.

“Thanks, then, I guess,” Harry replied, chancing a glance at Zayn. Zayn was staring contemplatively at the sky, reaching for the cigarette tucked behind his ear.

“I only smoke when I’m drunk,” Zayn explained as he lit the cigarette.

“Ok,” Harry said, knowing Zayn wasn’t fooling anybody.

“I heard you’ve been taking some good photos tonight,” Zayn said then, casting a glance at the now-empty pool.

Harry laughed. “We’ll see.”

“Did you still want to get one of me?” Zayn asked.

“Sure!” Harry said, feeling relieved.

“Anytime, then,” Zayn offered, blowing out a breath of smoke.

Harry nodded and tested the lighting on the back porch, then adjusted his camera.

There was silence then for a few moments, as Zayn smoked and Harry thought about the night. He was glad he had agreed to go to the party, but more confused than ever. Predictably, Zayn read his thoughts.

“Everything will make sense in the morning,” Zayn said, meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Will it?” Harry asked, doubtful.

“Usually does,” Zayn said thoughtfully. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry smiled down at his shoes. “Thanks for looking out for me tonight.”

“No problem.”

Another moment of silence fell on the two, and finally Zayn spoke. “So where are you going? After this?”

Harry wasn’t sure if he meant after the party or after graduation, but he guessed the latter. “Art school,” Harry replied softly. “If I make it.”

Zayn nodded and took another drag of his cigarette. “Sounds perfect. You’ll make it.”

“You think so?”

“Sure, man. If your photos are anything to go by, you’ll make it big.”

Harry looked up at the sky, reminded of another conversation he had while stargazing. This one was just as serious, but Harry felt like time had started slipping away from him somehow.

“Thanks, Zayn. I’m gonna try, that’s for sure.”

“Good,” Zayn replied. “Don’t give up, you know?”

Harry raised the camera and took a photo of Zayn’s profile as he exhaled a plume of smoke. It might not be a great photo, but it was an honest moment. Harry thought that was what the professor was hoping to find.

“I won’t,” Harry found himself promising. It was a promise he intended to keep.

*

Harry intended to go to the photography lab first thing Saturday morning, but as his alarm went off at 7:30, he realized he had had approximately three hours of sleep. He reached groggily for his phone, silenced the alarm, and rolled over to go back to sleep. He had slept dreamlessly for the first time in a while, and it was refreshing—but not nearly enough.

The second time Harry woke, late morning sunlight was streaming in through his window onto his faded bedspread. He lay there for a few minutes, contemplating the night before. Perrie and Niall. Liam’s house. Taking pictures of his classmates. Louis and Zayn.

_Louis._

Oh god, Harry had practically held his hand in public. He could still feel tiny tingles in his hand where he and Louis had touched. Harry groaned and buried his face in his pillow. Had anyone besides Zayn seen their drunk flirting? Was the whole school talking now about Harry’s huge, impossible crush on Louis Tomlinson? He couldn’t face his classmates on Monday, no way. Maybe he would contract a stomach virus, or the earth would finally open beneath his feet and mercifully save him from further embarrassment. A guy could dream.

Harry grabbed his phone and distractedly checked his messages and social media. Perrie had posted a picture on Instagram of a row of empty red solo cups, with no caption. Harry’s head throbbed a little at the thought of all the punch he had consumed, not to mention Niall’s specialty drink. Which reminded him, he should really check on Perrie.

 _Still alive?_ He texted his best friend, and then waited. The clock on his phone said it was 11:00 am now, so Perrie was probably up.

He only had to wait a moment for her response. _Did I actually die last night?_

Harry chuckled and replied back in the negative. His suspicion that Perrie had drank more of Niall’s drinks than he had was correct apparently.

 _We’re never doing that again_ , Perrie responded, and Harry could only imagine her hangover. Harry himself had a slight headache at best, so he was feeling fortunate.

 _Fine by me_ , Harry replied. And it was—he had experienced how the cool students spent their weekends, and had fun even, but it was like dressing up for Cinderella’s ball for the night and then going home to the same old life. Harry didn’t belong there.

 _Did you see Louis?_ Perrie asked out of the blue, and Harry blushed. He hadn’t brought it up on their drunk walk home last night, so now Harry had some explaining to do.

_It’s a long story._

Perrie replied immediately. _I’m coming over._

 _Bring breakfast, please_ , Harry typed. Then he slowly rolled out of bed, bypassing the camera on his desk and his sketchbook, and went to make coffee. He was going to need it.

*

“I’m never leaving you unattended at a party again,” Perrie vowed, taking a sip of her coffee minutes later.

Harry had recounted running into Louis at the party, and their conversation. Perrie had watched with alternating expressions of surprise, joy, and embarrassment. She listened quietly though, and when Harry had finished, she took a long swig of coffee and sighed.

“God, high school is going to kill us, H.”

Harry grinned and raised his coffee mug in cheers.

“But ok, you talked to him, so that’s good. And you didn’t freak out or say something embarrassing per se.”

Harry propped his chin on his hand and contemplated his half-empty mug. “Chances are he won’t remember it anyway.”

He chanced a glance up at Perrie to find her smiling sympathetically. “Aww babe, you don’t know that. He seems to really like you.”

“He was drunk, Perrie. Good thing Zayn showed up when he did.”

“We should send him a gift basket,” Perrie agreed with a smile.

“Full of cigarettes and the unabridged Edgar Allen Poe,” Harry replied. They shared a laugh in Anne’s kitchen together for a moment.

“Seriously, though, I know you wouldn’t have done something impulsive. Even drunk, you’re sensible. And you gave him a quest!”

Harry buried his face in his hands. “That was stupid.”

“It was romantic,” Perrie corrected, patting Harry’s hand. “A high five if you remember me.”

“And he’ll never remember, so it doesn’t matter.”

“We’ll see,” Perrie smiled enigmatically, taking another sip of her coffee.

For a moment, Harry dreamed of living in a world where Louis would remember their conversation. How it would feel to wake up to a text from Louis or sit with him at lunch, or even just watch movies together. The ghost of Louis’ touch was permanently etched in Harry’s memory.

Then Harry examined the facts: it was a deal two drunk teenagers struck up at a party. Louis probably spoke to dozens of people that night. Louis was one of the most popular kids in school, and had never to Harry’s knowledge had a boyfriend. With Harry’s luck, Louis was just a flirty drunk and nothing more.

Harry picked at a thread in his pajama shirt and let reality wash over him in waves. He had had a glimpse of being close to someone like Louis, and it would have to be enough.

Harry interrupted their companionable silence to add, “I’m glad I talked to him though.”

Perrie hummed thoughtfully and then replied, “You should be. You did great, H.”

“So what happens Monday?” Harry asked, unable to meet her eyes.

“We go back to our normal lives, and you develop some kick-ass photos of the party, so we can remember it forever. And we move on.”

It sounded easy enough, but Harry had a feeling Louis was someone you didn’t forget overnight.

*

When Harry arrived at the photography lab the next afternoon, he found several of his classmates there working on their own projects from the week before. Harry greeted a few he knew by name, and then prepared one of the darkrooms to develop his film. He wondered what his classmates had found to photograph. But most of all, he hoped the photos from the party turned out well. He didn’t have a backup plan.

Alone in the darkroom, the tension in Harry’s shoulders began to unwind a little. He pulled up a 90s playlist on his phone as he got to work, in the mood for some classics. He had avoided Fleetwood Mac ever since the drawing Louis event that nearly killed him; Harry had a feeling he would never look at “Landslide” the same way again.

As Blind Melon played the intro guitar notes to “No Rain,” Harry unrolled his film and began winding it on a reel. He took his time, remembering his early days in the darkroom when he tried to rush this part. Professor Swift had observed Harry practicing with a used roll of film and a reel one day and had simply remarked, “There’s no shortcuts to good work, Harry.” From then on, Harry always took his time, slow but steady, and it paid off.

Harry set the timer for the film to soak in a canister and listened to the music. He didn’t know why he was attracted to older music, but there was just something about it that Harry found reassuring. It had stood the test of time. And the lyrics were so applicable to his own life.

“I’ll always be there when you wake, you know I’d like to keep my cheeks dry today,” the band sang, and Harry sang along. He carefully poured the solution out of the canister. The film was ready to dry now.

“So stay with me and I’ll have it made,” the song continued. Harry carefully cut the film into strips so it could dry. The tiny images of the party had turned out decently, despite the poor lighting. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He arranged the film strips flat to dry and sat down on the secondhand couch with his old sketchbook. A few students were milling around, so Harry didn’t feel like flipping through some of his sketches. He turned to a blank page and scrawled the lyrics, “Stay with me and I’ll have it made.” Then he began sketching a moment that stood out from the party over the weekend.

Harry started with the linked hands of his friends. He sketched out the hands and arms, then rough figures of their bodies. Over their shoulders, you could see the shape of a pool emerging. Harry put “No Rain” on repeat as he worked. The scene when Perrie and his new friends jumped in the freezing pool at Liam’s would stay with Harry forever. Harry worked in peace for several minutes while he waited on his film to dry. His classmates had learned at the beginning of the class that Harry preferred to work alone, so no one bothered him now. The sketch he was doing might turn out to be a good graduation gift for Perrie, Harry thought.

Harry went to check his film periodically, and when it seemed dry enough, he closed the old sketchbook and went into the larger darkroom to work on his prints. Under the enlarger machine, Harry first focused on the shot of Zayn smoking on Liam’s porch. He beamed concentrated bursts of light onto the film negative, and the image began to appear on the 8 x 11 print paper underneath. The outline of Zayn looked like a silhouette in the dark night. Shadows played over his stubbled cheek and jaw. Long lashes fanned out over his eyes as Zayn exhaled the smoke. The smoke itself rose like a soft cloud into the air above his face. It turned out edgy and stark, thanks to Zayn’s personality.

_Don’t give up, you know?_

Zayn’s words from the party stood in the forefront of Harry’s mind as he worked. He had started the year thinking he was in this all alone, and yet over time more and more people were behind him. Perrie. His mother. Professors Swift and James. Zayn. Niall and the rest of the Journal members. The soccer team. Louis. Harry had never had so many people rooting for him before.

Some pressure came with that, because Harry didn’t want to let everyone down. But mostly he just felt energized. Satisfied with the exposure of light on his print, Harry carried it to the table with the developing trays. He saw that several students had come and gone, using the same solution, leaving it a bit murky. So he carefully poured out the trays and refilled them with fresh solution. Then he could develop his print of Zayn. While that sat in the first developing tray, Harry went back to the enlarger and began working on the rest of the party photos. Maybe his drunk classmates wouldn’t remember getting their pictures taken, but Harry wanted to develop them anyway. “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day came up on his playlist, and Harry smiled.

He realized his project was coming along pretty well, for once. “I hope you had the time of your life,” the band sang, and Harry hummed along. This was the perfect song for the party, and for his senior year in general. He put the song on repeat. He didn’t usually feel this confident about his photo projects. But for once, everything had come together nicely. It gave Harry hope that maybe he could do this for a career, instead of just as a student. He moved the print of Zayn from tray to tray until it was ready to clip to the little clothesline in the darkroom. The rest of the night flew by, and soon Harry had a row of prints from the party hanging up. There was the shot of the two “best friends” Harry had met in the kitchen, the girls beaming happily at the camera. A shot of the boys from the soccer team, arms around each other, looking ready to take on the world. Various candid shots of his classmates laughing and playing games. And his favorite, the shot of his friends jumping into the cold swimming pool. Harry surveyed his work with pride, alone in the darkroom now.

“It’s something unpredictable, but in the end it’s right. I hope you had the time of your life,” the band concluded, and Harry smiled a little nostalgically. He suddenly felt older, yet still so young. He knew where he wanted to go, but had no idea how to get there. It was a strange feeling, knowing you were on track but still being so far from the finish line. Harry looked around at his classmates’ photos for a moment, and realized he wasn’t alone. Everyone was on a path to get somewhere, it occurred to him. He wasn’t the only one struggling. When the song ended, Harry turned off the music and let the silence of the darkroom wash over him. The calm quiet of the room grounded Harry like nothing else. He carefully unclipped his now dry photos from the clothesline and tucked them into his bag. As he nodded to a few classmates out in the classroom on his way out, for the first time in a long time Harry felt at peace with the world. He still had to face his classmates Monday morning, and eventually Louis. He still had a senior project to plan. But he had taken Professor Swift’s advice and let his camera take him places he normally wouldn’t fit in—and he had the time of his life. So tonight, for once, he would sleep knowing that he was on the right track.

*

Harry could count on one hand the number of times people had spoken to him in the halls at Jackson High. So on Monday morning, as he was blearily opening his locker in the crowded hall, he was surprised when someone patted his shoulder and said hello.

Harry turned with a pleasantly surprised expression to see Liam standing there, holding the straps of his backpack and nodding at friends as they passed.

“Hey, Liam,” Harry said, amazed that this was even happening. Liam talked to Harry sometimes in the Journal meetings, but he’d never spoken in the halls. A few curious bystanders were watching across the hall.

“Hey, Harry. Thanks for coming this weekend. Did you have a good time?” Liam asked with a broad smile.

“Yeah! Really good, thanks,” Harry replied, smiling back.

“Awesome! The guys said you might have some pictures from the party,” Liam continued.

“Oh,” Harry said, biting his lip. “Was it ok I brought my camera? I should have asked,” he said, looking at his feet.

“No worries, man. I’d love to see your photos though!” Liam replied easily.

“You…would?” Harry asked, completely surprised.

“Sure!” Liam exclaimed, patting Harry on the shoulder. “Bring them to the Journal meeting today?” he proposed.

“Ok,” Harry shrugged with a smile. “They’re not great or anything, but sure.”

Liam laughed a little. “I bet they’re great as usual. Oh, I’ve got to go. See you later, man!”

Harry waved a little confusedly as Liam smiled in parting, then turned to walk down the hall. Liam wasn’t mad about the photos? And he wanted to see them? Harry had no idea what just happened. By the time he caught up with Perrie for their intro to photography class, he was thoroughly perplexed.

Harry grabbed a seat next to Perrie, who was texting on her phone. “Hey! How’d your photos turn out?” she asked, not looking up from her screen.

Harry shrugged. “Good, I guess?”

Perrie looked up and flashed Harry a smile. “Can’t wait to see them!”

Just then, Professor Swift walked in the classroom. He greeted the class and instructed them to get out their projects from last week. Harry suddenly felt a little nervous as he pulled his photos out of his bag. This time not just the professor, but Harry’s own classmates—who might have been at the party—would see his work.

Harry had glued his final photos to white poster board squares, and now he propped them up against a wall in the classroom. Several other students were doing the same. For a few minutes, the students walked around observing each other’s photos. Harry just stood beside his row of photos, fidgeting a little with his sleeves. This part always made him nervous. The first student that stopped at Harry’s photos raised her eyebrows in surprise, then broke out into a big smile. She was looking at the photo of the two drunk best friends Harry met in Liam’s kitchen.

“Meg, come look! It’s your sister,” the girl called over her shoulder.

For a moment, there was a sense of dread hanging over Harry as his classmate approached them. She stared at Harry’s photo, then grinned.

“That’s her, alright! She’ll love this. Did you take it?” the girl asked, turning to Harry. He blushed but nodded yes.

“Great job! I’m going to text her right now, she has to see this,” the girl concluded.

Over the next few minutes, Harry attracted a crowd of students. They pointed at the one of his friends linking hands and jumping in the pool. A few girls took sneaky pictures of Zayn’s profile photo. Eventually, Professor Swift came around to see what all the commotion was about. Harry smiled nervously at the professor.

“What do we have here?” Professor Swift asked, stepping closer.

“Harry took pictures at an awesome party!” one of his classmates exclaimed.

The Professor smiled and looked at each photo intently. He didn’t comment like Harry’s classmates had, which made him more nervous. The professor walked down the row, evaluating all the photos. Finally, he straightened up and returned to Harry.

“I’d like to see you after class, Harry.”

Harry swallowed nervously and managed to nod. Oh god. What if Harry was in trouble for taking his camera somewhere where there was teenage drinking? Was the professor going to turn him in?

Perrie rushed over when she saw the professor leave.

“H, what happened? You’re really pale.”

“He wants to see me after class,” Harry muttered under his breath, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “I think this is it; I’m expelled.”

“Harry, no! These are great photos!” Perrie protested. Harry smiled weakly.

“We’ll see.”

When class wrapped up a torturous hour later, Harry was a ball of nerves. He watched his classmates file out, and sat there fiddling with his phone until the professor turned to him.

“Ah, Harry,” he began, and Harry braced himself for the worst.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to sound confident.

“I don’t know what to say other than…excellent work. You nailed it, Harry.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. His heart actually skipped a beat. “What? I don’t…what?”

The professor chuckled. “You did exactly what I asked of you, and then some. I suspect this party,” the professor said gesturing towards Harry’s photos, “was not your cup of tea. But you really went for it, and captured so many honest moments.”

Harry was speechless.

“This is exactly what I’m looking for in your final project,” the Professor explained. “Authenticity. Heart.”

“I…thank you so much,” Harry breathed, still floored by the turn in this conversation.

“No, thank you. You went above and beyond for this assignment. That’s what it takes to be a professional, Harry. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Harry finally managed to say. His mind was spinning.

“Have you thought about sharing these with your classmates? The ones you photographed?” the professor asked.

Harry frowned slightly. “Why?”

“People like to keep these sometimes. It’s a moment in time that you’ve captured for them, an honest moment. Think about showing these to your new friends,” the professor concluded. “And keep up the good work!”

With that, the professor clapped Harry on the back and walked into his office. Harry sat at the desk for a moment, still reeling from the conversation. As if on autopilot, he reached for his phone. There, Perrie had sent a simple,

_What did he say?_

Harry smiled slightly, typed his reply, and then gathered his things to leave. The week was off to a great start.

_Aced it._

*

A text startled Harry at lunch that day, when he and Perrie were celebrating his project success. Since the only person who ever texted Harry was currently sitting across from him, he had no idea who it was from.

_Hey, Harry. Coming to the game tomorrow?_

Harry frowned in confusion and looked around the lunchroom at his fellow students. But no one was looking at him, as usual.

 _Who is this?_ Harry typed in reply. A response came a moment later.

_Lol it’s Niall._

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. When Perrie looked up from her carrot cake, asking who was texting, Harry explained it was Niall.

 _How did you get my number?_ Harry asked. Blunt, but to the point.

_Haha I have my ways. So, game tomorrow? It’s in Springfield. Zayn’s driving._

Harry bit his lip, thinking of the pile of homework he had in the backpack sitting by his feet. He met Perrie’s inquisitive eyes and said, “Game tomorrow.”

 _I’m in_ , Harry typed back slowly, as if trying to talk himself out of it. But why not go? He told himself that it would be nice to get out of the house and cheer on his team. It had absolutely nothing to do with seeing Louis Tomlinson again.

 _Great, we’ll pick you up_ , Niall replied, and even through text Harry could sense his enthusiasm.

_How do you know where I live?_

Niall’s reply, when it came, shouldn’t have surprised Harry at this point. Niall had typed a simple emoji as a response.

;)

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile a little. He set his phone down and looked back at the sad sight of his lunch tray, where something resembling spaghetti stared back ominously.

“Want to go on a road trip tomorrow?” Harry asked Perrie, poking at his food.

Perrie grinned. “I believe the invite was just for you.”

Harry shrugged. “I’m sure everyone would be glad to see you. Niall wouldn’t mind.”

For once, Perrie blushed and looked down at her food. “I don’t know about that.”

Harry wasn’t used to seeing his confident best friend looking shy. He had no idea what was going on.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he trailed off, and Perrie nodded quickly. Then she returned to her food. Harry was more confused than ever, but decided Perrie probably knew what she was doing.

They ate in silence for a few more minutes. Just before the bell was scheduled to ring, Perrie’s head snapped up. She stared wide-eyed at Harry.

“Hold on. You’re going to the game tomorrow!” she exclaimed.

Harry narrowed his eyes and wondered if she was feeling alright. “Yeah?”

“And you-know-who is going to the game too!” she whispered excitedly, nodding off in the direction of the cool lunch table where Harry knew Louis sat.

“And?” Harry replied, ignoring the sense of dread building in his stomach.

“And!” Perrie hissed, bright blue eyes snapping back to Harry’s. “ _And_ he’s going to see you and remember the party and give you a high five. And then _I_ will explode and fly into the sun! Harry, you have to go!”

Nerves twisted in Harry’s stomach at full force. “Oh god. Perrie, that’s never gonna happen. He’s probably forgotten all about that by now…but maybe I should text Niall back and say I can’t go…”

“Harry Styles!” Perrie whisper-shouted, narrowing her eyes. “You will do no such thing. You are going to that game and you are going to talk to Louis. And then I’m going to go buy a bridesmaid’s dress because you’re going to live happily ever after. Got it?”

Harry groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Perrie,” he began, voice a little muffled. “It never works out like that in high school. Come on.”

Harry chanced a look at his best friend then, only to find her grinning like the Cheshire cat. “If you say so.”

“Perrie. I’m serious. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Ok,” she said with a smile, trying to look innocent. But she burst out into giggles.

“Oh my god, what are we, 12?” Harry asked with a sigh. In front of him, Perrie covered her mouth with a dainty hand to contain her laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” she replied. She sat up straighter and cleared her throat, and finally her laughter subsided. She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “I’m fine.”

Harry gave her the side eye, but didn’t comment. Finally, the bell rang.

“Saved by the bell,” Harry grumped, picking up his bag and lunch tray. He turned to join the line of students dropping off their trays, and suddenly Perrie grabbed his arm.

“Wear the skinny jeans!” she whispered, but several students turned to look at her when she spoke. Harry blushed a deep red and cringed. He waved weakly at Perrie, who winked in return. With that, Harry sighed and went to class. What had he gotten himself into?

*

Harry had every intention of going to his AP English class that afternoon, but Professor Swift’s words kept echoing in his head. So when the bell rang to go to class, Harry grabbed his bag and headed up to the photography lab with his film negatives from the party. He would make another copy of his prints for the people he photographed, and then the project would be officially over.

Another class was underway when Harry entered the lab, and Professor Swift just nodded at Harry as he passed. Harry headed into the darkroom and went straight to the enlarger machine with his negatives. He started with the photo of Zayn smoking, since he would be riding to the game with Zayn tomorrow. Harry carefully slid the negative under the scope of the machine and placed a fresh 8 x 11 photo sheet underneath. Then he dialed up the intensity of light to be beamed onto the negative. He had to listen for the afternoon bell, so he didn’t listen to his usual music. Harry worked quickly but accurately, the movements precise and practiced.

After he made the print of Zayn, Harry started on some of the other popular photos from the party that he exhibited in class. He had just enough time to hang up the last print on the clothesline in the lab to dry before the bell caught him. Harry took one last look at his work, lined up neatly in a row, and then packed up his things and headed to his last class. He would retrieve his work at the end of the day when it had finished drying.

All in all, it had been an eventful day—and tomorrow would be a big one too. Harry had never gone to an away game with the team before, so he was a little nervous. He resolutely did not think about Louis as he went about the rest of his day. He didn’t think about the deal they had made or the high five Louis had promised him when they were drunk at Liam’s party. He pushed it from his mind as best he could. There was no use thinking about what would never be. That night, Harry went to sleep in his childhood bed and dreamed he showed up for the game with no film in his camera, and he had to sit on the sidelines and frantically sketch each shot he would have taken. The disappointed look on everyone’s face was enough to wake Harry in the early-morning hours before dawn gasping for breath. In the dark of his room, Harry stumbled to his desk and checked that Cherry was ready for the game with a fresh roll of film inside. Only then could he collapse back into bed and sleep fretfully until his alarm rang at sunrise.

*

Harry had meant to dress a little nicer than usual since he would be leaving for the game right after he got home from school that day, but as he stared blearily into the mirror in his room, he simply didn’t have the energy. He glanced a little guiltily at the skinny jeans folded in his closet, and then dressed in his usual faded jeans and nondescript dark sweater. It might have been green, but it was hard to tell in the faint morning light coming in through his curtains. In the mirror, Harry was surprised to see that he still looked seventeen; he felt like he had aged a decade overnight.

He couldn’t figure out why he was a bundle of nerves all day. Harry was used to anxiety; he was a senior after all. But there was something about the chill in the air today and the way the clock seemed to move too fast that made Harry dread the closing bell. He collected his dried prints from the photo lab and handed out a couple, like the one of the drunk girls in the kitchen, to the actual subjects. When those girls saw the photo, they squealed and hugged each other—and then hugged Harry.

“We’re going to keep this forever!” one girl exclaimed, holding the photo delicately by the edges. Thank you!”

Harry got a similar response from the group of soccer players he had photographed at Liam’s party. He had felt extremely awkward approaching the boys in the hall, but as soon as they saw the photo, the group smiled and passed the photo around excitedly. They patted Harry on the back and thanked him one by one. Harry spent most of the day blushing from the attention.

When Harry caught up with Zayn in the journalism class that day, his usual nerves had faded a little. He knew Zayn a little better than the classmates he had shared the photos with that day, after all. Harry suspected there was a lot more to Zayn than meets the eye, though. He just hoped Zayn didn’t think it was cheesy.

“There’s our photo man!” Niall cried in greeting as Harry entered the classroom. By now, Harry was used to Niall’s welcomes and the inevitable staring that followed, so he just waved in response.

“Heard you were coming to the game today,” Zayn said by way of greeting. He was in the middle of a thick Norton’s Anthology of literature textbook, and wearing all black again.

“Yeah, if that’s ok?” Harry asked, sliding into the seat next to Zayn.

“Definitely,” Zayn said, smiling slightly.

“Um. This is for you,” Harry offered a little awkwardly, pulling the photo out of his bag. He handed it to a surprised Zayn, who took it with wide eyes.

“For me?” Zayn asked, tentatively handling the photo by the edges. His expression was one of pleasant surprise, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise cool demeanor. He closed his textbook and turned his attention to the photo.

“Yeah,” Harry said, blushing for the hundredth time that day. “I finished my project, thanks to you.”

“Harry, this is sick,” Zayn murmured, eyes scanning the photo. He looked up with dark brown eyes that seemed to sparkle. “Thank you!”

Harry grinned and ducked his head. “Thank you for helping me.”

Niall ambled over to see what they were talking about, and whistled when he saw the photo. “Did you take that, Harry?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Who else?” Zayn teased.

“I, um. Have one for you too,” Harry said to Niall, who instantly perked up. Harry pulled out the photo of the friends linking hands as they jumped into the pool. He handed it to Niall, who lit up like he had received an early Christmas present.

“No way!” Niall laughed, examining the photo. All the commotion drew the rest of the class to crowd around Niall. They oohed and aahed at the photo together, and Harry felt something like pride swell inside him.

“Awesome!” Jade cried. “Professor, check this out!” she called over her shoulder. Professor James looked up from her computer screen and rose to join the group.

Harry swallowed down a fresh wave of nerves as she approached. But his worries weren’t necessary. The professor leaned over Niall’s shoulder to glimpse the photo, and then she beamed.

“Harry, this is fantastic!” she exclaimed. “You captured the exact moment they jumped. Well done!”

Harry smiled and nodded, finally meeting her warm brown eyes. “Thank you. They made it easy.”

“Hmm,” the professor mused, looking around at her students. “And I see they were not wearing regulation swimwear,” she teased. Jade blushed and ducked her head, but Niall threw his head back and laughed.

“I can only guess whose idea this was,” she said, looking over her glasses at Niall.

Niall just giggled and bowed to the class. “You’re welcome.”

The professor rolled her eyes, but she was grinning as she said, “What am I going to do with you all?”

The class laughed in unison, and Harry let the moment wash over him. Here he sat, where once he was terrified to even speak, amidst a group of friends and mentors who were eager to celebrate his success. He could easily imagine what his life would be like if he had never stood in the doorway of the Jackson Journal with a crumpled flyer in his hand, looking for a place to fit in. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Harry met Zayn’s eyes as the class laughed, and found Zayn already looking at him. He mouthed, “Thank you” to Harry, and Harry nodded, unable to stop smiling. At that moment, Harry knew he could handle going to the game, and whatever else lay in store for him. He had friends by his side now, and a place at this school finally. For once, Harry looked at the challenges ahead of him as doable rather than impossible. He hoped to hold on to this feeling for as long as he could.

*

“’Cause we gotta hold on to what we’ve got; it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not!”

Niall sang from the passenger seat of Zayn’s battered Corolla later that afternoon. Harry couldn’t figure out why Niall was belting out Bon Jovi, but somehow he wasn’t surprised. True to his word, Zayn’s car rolled into Harry’s driveway at 4:00. Now, on the open highway, as Niall sang and Zayn smoked casually, Harry felt strangely at home in the backseat.

“We’ve got each other, and that’s a lot for love. We’ll give it a shot! Harry, sing with me!” Niall crowed.

Harry rolled his eyes, but grinned as he joined Niall for the chorus. “Oh, we’re halfway there. Oh-oh, living on a prayer! I see you Zayn, sing along!”

Zayn tossed his cigarette out the window and joined in, to Harry’s surprise.

“Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear. Oh-oh! Living on a prayer!” they sang in unison as the car hurtled down the road.

Harry eyed his camera, sitting beside him in the backseat. He had checked and double checked the film, after last night’s dream. Now they were headed to Springfield High for the game. And apparently singing 80s ballads. Why not?

“Guys, we should start a band!” Niall exclaimed over the pounding bass. Zayn met Harry’s skeptical expression in the rearview mirror, and smiled wryly.

“Boy bands are out, Ni,” Zayn laughed over the music.

“No they’re not!” Niall challenged. “Backstreet. N’Sync. Classics, man.”

The rest of the song played out, and the boys sang along. It felt good to have the wind in his hair and friends with him, Harry thought. No matter how the game turned out, at least these moments were fun. He spared a thought for Perrie, who again had shied away from coming along. She claimed she had to get her hair done, but Harry was skeptical. Girls were weird.

Minutes later, Zayn’s car rolled into the school parking lot at Springfield. The bus from Jackson was already parked there, and Harry, Zayn and Niall hastily jumped out of the car. Harry slung his camera bag over his shoulder and followed Zayn and Niall through the chain-link gate onto the soccer field. A small crowd had made the trip from Jackson, and were sitting in the visitor’s stands decked out in school colors. Both teams were warming up on opposite sides of the field. The autumn sky was starting to fade to sunset, as winter got closer and closer. It would be dark soon, and the floodlights would come on.

Niall and Zayn told Harry good luck and then headed to sit with Liam in the stands. Harry ambled up to the sideline and began setting up his camera. He had to adjust to the fading afternoon light. As he was still new to soccer, Harry had no idea if the Springfield team was even good. He scanned the players on the opposite team in their red jerseys. They looked average sized to Harry.

Harry focused then on the Jaguars in their green jerseys and neat white shorts. They were stretching individually and chatting in the few minutes before the game started. Harry lined up a test shot of a couple soccer players mid-stretch, adjusting the zoom on his camera and the shutter speed. The numbers on the back of their jerseys came into sharp focus, and Harry smiled a little. This should be a standard game for once. No more balls to the head or jerk talent scouts this time. Harry lowered the viewfinder from his eyes in satisfaction.

At that moment, Louis Tomlinson wandered into Harry’s line of sight. Harry hadn’t seen him since the party. Louis was standing with a teammate, absently stretching his legs as he talked. Harry watched as Louis rolled first one, then the next ankle in practiced circles. He raised his camera to zoom in closer on the laces of Louis’ shoes, testing his camera’s range. Cherry did not disappoint; Harry was pleased to see that he could detect where Louis had double knotted his laces. Satisfied, Harry lowered the camera.

The next few moments happened as if in slow motion. First, Louis’ head turned at Harry’s movement. He stopped talking midsentence and stared at Harry inquisitively. Then, he made eye contact with Harry, and Harry forgot how to breathe for a moment. He was just never prepared for that moment when Louis’ intense blue eyes focused all their attention on his. Next, Louis tilted his head, as if trying to work out a puzzle. Harry wondered what he was thinking. His eyes flickered to Harry’s once more, and now Louis was frowning slightly. Harry watched in surprise as Louis shook his head, as if trying to clear his head, and then he looked away. He resumed talking with his teammate. Harry realized the whole interaction had taken less than ten seconds, and now Louis had moved on.

And that was just. Well. Crushing, in Harry’s mind. It answered the question, though, that still lingered in Harry’s mind after the party. Louis had noticed him, considered something, and then brushed off the thought completely. Any tiny hopes that Harry held on to about Louis remembering their high five deal were promptly snuffed out. Harry suddenly felt ridiculous, standing there alone on the sidelines, his previous good mood soured. He busied himself with checking his phone for messages. There was just one.

 _Have fun at the game!_ Perrie, of course. Harry missed her acutely then. He typed out a hasty reply, giving away nothing of his interaction with Louis yet. The wound was still fresh, and Harry did not want to go there by text message moments before the game started.

Sure enough, a moment later the referee announced the playing of the national anthem. The crowd behind Harry and the one across in the home team’s stands rose in unison and put their hands over their hearts. The players on the field stopped their chatting and lined up shoulder to shoulder for the anthem. It blared through the tinny speakers on the field, and in those moments Harry tried to focus his mind on the task at hand. He had a game to document, and his own team that relied on him. Harry suspected he didn’t have much of a game face, but he tried to put one on.

When the whistle blew, Harry was ready for the game. He spent the next 45 minutes of game play keeping up with the Jaguars as they streaked up and down the field. Against his will almost, the camera kept landing on Louis. Everything from the way he called out plays to his team to the way he lined up a penalty kick was precise and confident. Harry found, to his dismay, that even the way the wind ruffled his hair and the way sweat beaded at his hairline before rolling down his temples was satisfying to watch. At the half, the Jaguars were leading by one and the crowd was energetic.

Harry spent the fifteen minutes of the half replacing his roll of film with a new one, and texting Perrie back. He grabbed a paper cup of water from the table on the sidelines once all the players had gotten some. Then he returned to spot in the grass. Behind him, Harry could hear Niall and Liam bantering about something, but this time Harry wasn’t tempted to turn and snap a photo of them. He hoped his mood wasn’t influencing his photography skills.

When the second half started at the whistle, Harry sighed and picked up his camera. He found that the Springfield team was struggling to keep up with the Jaguars. Louis, in particular, was giving them a run for their money. He sprinted across the field to intercept the ball, and he was just a blur through Harry’s lens. He blocked the opposite team from nearing the goal like it was second nature. Try as he might to resist, Harry easily got sucked into the game. When the Jaguars scored the final goal and the whistle blew, he had lost track of time. Harry took a moment to photograph the players lining up to shake hands and say “good game.”

Usually, Harry might have lingered for a few moments collecting his things and watching the players leave the field, but he had a ride home to catch. Harry quickly zipped his camera into his secondhand camera bag and stood to dust off the dirt from his jeans. He turned to locate Niall and Zayn in the crowd emptying from the stands. Zayn caught his eye and smiled, then nodded at something over Harry’s shoulder. Harry frowned and turned to see what Zayn was looking at.

And really, Harry should have learned to expect the unexpected by now. For there, still slightly panting after the game, was a sweaty, nervous-looking Louis Tomlinson. Harry’s jaw dropped, and he couldn’t form words.

“Hey,” Louis said, still slightly out of breath from the exertion of the game.

“Hey,” Harry replied, mouth still agape. Then he had no idea what to say. Harry stared at Louis’ flushed face, and the way that sweat spiked his usually smooth hair. He could smell sweat and grass and something distinctly boy that made Harry’s heart pound in his chest. He watched as Louis ran a slender hand through his damp hair, memorizing the way it fell back into place.

“Just wanted to say, um,” Louis began, trying to catch his breath. His eyes flickered to Harry’s, and bright blue met green for a moment. Louis looked nervous.

“Um, thanks for coming,” Louis said, still panting. He offered Harry a half smile.

“I, um. Anytime,” Harry found himself saying. He suspected he was having an out-of-body experience. He could see himself standing on the sidelines with Louis as the stands emptied out and the floodlights blared brightly above them.

Louis smiled and nodded, and then a teammate called his name. The bus was loading up. Louis held up a hand for him to wait a moment without looking over his shoulder.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Louis said, this time with a wide smile. He slowly held up his palm in front of Harry, waiting.

Harry stopped breathing, and blood rushed through his ears. He temporarily lost all thoughts of where they were and what was happening. He stared at Louis hand, and then slowly raised his own in the air. He could feel his cheeks burning, and his heart was pounding so loud he suspected Louis could hear it. As if in a trance, he patted his hand against Louis’.

Louis’ answering smile was dazzling. It was the kind of smile that would stay with Harry for the rest of his life. Somewhere, in multiple other universes, other Harrys were touching other Louis’ hands, and the electricity sizzled between them all. Right here, right now, standing with Louis on a deserted soccer field, was no exception. Harry actually gasped when his hand met Louis’ and they finally touched. To his amazement, Louis curled his fingers around Harry’s and squeezed Harry’s hand. All the while, Harry couldn’t look away from Louis’ eyes. A zing of electricity flowed through Harry at the sensation, and he realized his mouth was still hanging open—but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Harry felt his fingers fold over Louis’ smaller, delicate hand. For a moment, they stood there with joined hands, and slowly, Harry’s mouth curved into a smile. Louis’ own smile widened, and his eyes crinkled around the corners from the force of it.

Just as slowly and delicately, Louis slid his fingers from Harry’s grasp. His eyes were still locked with Harry’s as he murmured, “So, yeah.”

“Okay,” Harry breathed, as his hand lowered to his side.

Louis’ gaze flickered down to Harry’s mouth, and Harry felt his blush deepening. Suddenly, he was consumed with the thought of pressing his lips to Louis’. Imagining what that would feel like, if his whole body felt electrified just from the touch of Louis’ hand. Louis glanced back up to Harry’s eyes, and his smile softened.

“I see you, Styles,” he said softly. Then he grinned once and turned to walk towards his teammates lining up for the bus.

Harry had no idea how long they had stood there in that little bubble, but as he turned to search for Niall and Zayn, he found them still making their way down the bleachers. It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, but to Harry, the moment was permanently ingrained in his mind.

Harry turned to join Niall and Zayn, and cast one look over his shoulder. He realized Louis was already turned back looking at him. Louis smiled lopsidedly, then turned to step onto the waiting bus. Harry walked away towards his friends in something like a trance. The feeling didn’t leave him as he greeted Niall and Zayn, and then loaded his things into the car. It lasted through a bantering conversation about what they would name their boy band, and through arriving at his house. As if he was watching someone else do it, Harry climbed the stairs to his room and slowly undressed. He crawled into bed, with Louis’ words ringing in his ears. _I see you, Styles._

Harry only realized how exhausted he was as his eyelids began to droop in his quiet, dark room. He drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Louis’ slim hand curling around his, and of a soft reedy voice saying his name. For the first time in weeks, Harry slept dreamlessly.

*

Autumn turned cooler in Jackson, and the days grew shorter. For Harry, this was the best time of year. He loved the chilly air, and the way the sky darkened to twilight before dinnertime. He liked to walk the streets of his childhood home with his camera bag slung over his shoulder, just observing. There were families out raking yards, with small children jumping into the towering piles of colorful leaves; Harry had done that as a young child. There were fall festivals and bonfires and s’mores, and it was enough to draw even Harry out of doors.

By the time Thanksgiving rolled around, Harry was fairly panicking about his senior project. It was due by Christmas break. He was happy that the advice of his professors and friends had helped narrow the topic down to portraits, but beyond that, he had no ideas. His sketchbook sat on his desk, waiting for fresh ideas. His camera was ready with a new roll of film, should inspiration strike at any moment. Harry had heard of writer’s block; now he was wondering if there was such a thing as photographer’s block.

Harry helped Anne prepare a small but festive Thanksgiving dinner, just the two of them. Sometimes Perrie dropped by in the evenings on holidays, but Harry and his mom had lunch all to themselves. While the weak autumn light shone through Anne’s vertical blinds in the dining room, Harry and Anne feasted on baked turkey, dressing, and Harry’s favorite potato casserole. They had prepapred a chocolate layer cake for dessert, but were both too full after lunch to cut it.

After Harry helped his mother with the dishes and the table was cleared, Anne settled down on the couch to watch the Macy’s parade on TV. Harry grabbed his camera bag and a jacket and scarf and headed to one of his favorite places to think, the local park.

Jackson’s only park was a decent size, but the slides and swing sets were a little run down. The chains on the swings had rusted, and the monkey bars were a bit lopsided. Nevertheless, there was plenty of green space and a few benches where locals liked to sit and watch the afternoon fade to dusk. Usually around this time of year, and on a holiday, the park was deserted. That suited Harry just fine. He rounded the corner off Main Street and the park came into view, blessedly empty. Harry smiled and made a beeline for his favorite bench.

He sat for a few moments, just listening to the birds chirping and the rustling of autumn leaves on the maple trees overhead. The leaves had turned a brilliant array of reds and oranges. Soon they would fall, and the spindly branches would point to the winter sky until spring. But for now, they were beautiful. Eventually, Harry dug out his phone and sent a quick text to Perrie wishing her a happy Thanksgiving. He pocketed the phone and then began unzipping his camera bag. He had the sudden urge to lay in the grass and take pictures of the vibrant leaves overhead.

The tranquility of the empty park was interrupted suddenly by faint voices. Harry could detect a few children talking and laughing as they approached the park before they came into view. Harry sighed and contemplated packing up his gear to head home. But his stubborn side insisted he was here first. So he stayed planted on his bench, fiddling with the zoom on his camera. Meanwhile, the voices grew closer. Harry could hear one child plainly now.

“…is why mom said I could go first. Please?”

A young man’s voice responded then, and Harry could make out his laugh.

“We’ll see, Daze. We can all take turns.”

The voice was familiar, but Harry couldn’t quite place it. He narrowed his eyes in thought. He could hear the group’s footsteps echo on the pavement of the sidewalk as they neared the park. He could now discern the younger voices were girls, as they giggled and sang a song. Harry shrugged and focused the viewfinder of his camera on the empty swing set, until he could see the rust on the chains. He fine-tuned some settings on the camera until he was satisfied.

Harry’s bench was facing away from the entrance gate to the park; otherwise, had he seen who was approaching he might have packed up and gone home. From his peripheral vision, he saw two girls run towards the slide, bickering about who would go first. Their blonde hair was tied up in messy ponytails that bounced with each step they made. As they came into full view, Harry realized the girls were identical twins. A heavier set of footsteps followed, at a slower gait. Soon a teenage girl entered Harry’s line of sight, staring at something on a purple iPhone. She was dressed in stylish jeans and a crisp red pea coat that clashed slightly with the pink dip-dyed tips of her hair. As the twins bickered ahead at the slide, the older girl rolled her eyes but smiled. She raised her phone to capture a photo of the younger girls, presumably her sisters. She turned to call over her shoulder, “Caught in the act, Lou. Look.”

One more person entered Harry’s peripheral vision, this time a young man. His must be the voice Harry recognized but couldn’t place. He was walking leisurely with his hands stuffed in the pockets of a grey jacket. Streaks of blond and red tones caught the sun and gave a pleasant dimension to his brown hair. Harry didn’t have much time to puzzle over who this was before the young man responded to the teenage girl.

“I see. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

At the sound of the young man’s slightly reedy, higher voice, Harry’s eyes widened in shock. His heartbeat quickened, and his cheeks turned an embarrassing red. No, surely not, he thought with growing panic. What were the odds? Was the universe playing a joke on him? Was his life in fact a movie? Harry slowly lowered his camera to his lap and unconsciously curled his cold fingers into fists. Why was this happening?

Louis Tomlinson strolled into Harry’s line of sight then, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut in panic. The butterflies in his stomach had multiplied, and his mind flashed back to the last time he had seen Louis, at the soccer game in Springfield. The way their hands had merged for a gentle high five; the way Louis smiled in parting as he stepped onto the bus to leave. Harry had not seen Louis in a week at least, eight days to be exact, and now it was all just a little much.

No one had seen Harry yet. He had the sudden thought to jump up from the bench and walk away, pretending not to see the group and Louis. He was practically invisible at school, after all; why not here as well? Harry slowly opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He would just stand up and calmly walk away. Yes.

Harry gingerly placed his camera back into his bag. The movement didn’t alert anyone to his presence. So far so good. Harry bit his lip as he watched the girls on the playground for a moment. They were both standing at the bottom of the ladder of the slide, trying to go first. The teenager was absorbed in her phone. And Louis…Louis was standing facing away from Harry, watching the girls with hands on his hips.

Harry took another deep breath. Then as quietly as possible, he reached for the zipper of his camera bag. He slowly began zipping it up, only to find the sound was entirely too loud. He promptly stopped and gasped, frozen in place. He waited a second, and then a second more. But the girls kept pushing each other away from the slide, and the teenager kept texting. Harry was in the clear. He breathed a sigh of relief.

And then Louis turned with a faint frown, wondering what had caused the sudden sound. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Louis slowly faced Harry, and his eyes widened in surprise. He raised his eyebrows, and his mouth formed a perfect “o”.

“Harry?” he asked, as if he was seeing a mirage.

Harry meant to answer; he really did. But he sat frozen in place, mouth agape, cheeks burning. He swallowed and tried to clear his throat, and finally a word squeaked out of his mouth.

“Louis?”

Louis’ frown melted into a slight smile as he took in Harry for the first time in a week. He scanned Harry’s face, down his dark green jacket and grey scarf looped around his neck, down to the camera bag sitting in his lap. And it was just. A lot. Having all of Louis’ attention focused on him, even for a moment, made electricity hum in Harry’s veins.

Harry took that moment to really look at Louis. His tan had faded a little as winter neared, and he was holding a navy blue beanie in his hand. His eyes were blue as ever, but Harry could detect faint circles under his eyes. Looked like Harry wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights lately. When Louis spoke again, Harry finally met his eyes.

“Hi.”

Harry smiled back, hoping he didn’t look completely goofy. “Hi.”

Louis tore his gaze away for a moment at the sound of raised voices behind him. Harry looked over Louis’ shoulder to discover the twin girls were now shoving each other to get to the ladder of the slide. Louis sighed and glanced back at Harry for a moment.

“Hold on. Don’t—don’t go anywhere.”

Harry couldn’t have moved then even if he wanted to. He relaxed back against the bench and watched Louis mediate the argument.

“Daisy Marie. Phoebe Ann. Come here, right now.”

The way Louis stood, hands on hips waiting for the girls to obey, reminded Harry of watching Louis call out plays for his team on the soccer field. Miraculously, the girls stopped pushing and stepped apart. They looked guiltily at the ground, still pouting a little.

“Please,” Louis added a little more gently.

The girls slowly walked towards Louis, who crouched down on the grass to see at their level. Harry only heard their exchange because he was sitting so close; otherwise, Louis’ soft voice would not have carried far. Louis stuffed his beanie in his jacket pocket and waited. When the girls finally stood before him, pouting, Louis spoke.

“What did mom tell you about fighting? I know you remember.”

One of the girls cut her eyes to her sister, then to Louis. “She said not to argue.”

“And?” Louis prompted, laying a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“And to be kind,” the other sister mumbled, glancing up at Louis with round blue eyes.

“Yes. That’s exactly right. Now can you play and take turns?” Louis asked patiently.

The girls exchanged a skeptical look, then turned back to Louis in perfect sync. “Who’s that?” one girl asked Louis, looking over his shoulder at Harry, who had gone unnoticed until then.

Louis glanced over his shoulder at Harry and smiled slightly. He turned back to his sisters. “That’s Harry. Can you say hello?”

The girls looked curiously at Harry, fiddling with their hair and the hems of their jackets nervously. They waved shyly and then looked down at their feet.

“Harry?” a voice called incredulously. “ _The_ Harry?”

Harry raised his eyebrows as the teenage girl glanced up from her phone finally. She stared at Louis with wide eyes. Louis’ shoulders sagged a little, but he nodded.

“Yes, Charlotte,” he replied, and to Harry it sounded like he left no room for argument. But the teenager stood from her perch on one of the swings and walked towards Louis with a growing smile. She looked at Harry and actually winked. It reminded Harry of Perrie.

“Harry from school? Harry the photographer?” Charlotte asked as she approached. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” she said to Harry with a grin.

“Behave, please, Lottie,” Louis cautioned, and he suddenly sounded nervous.

Charlotte, or Lottie, cast a quick glance at Louis, smile widening. “I will.” She turned back to face Harry, who was more than a little confused. He had never met Louis’ sisters in his life, but here was one acting like she knew him.

“Girls, Harry here took the pictures I showed you on Instagram. The black and white ones.”

Daisy and Phoebe looked curiously at Harry, and they smiled shyly.

“And I believe he has his camera _right now_ ,” she added in whisper.

The girls’ faces lit up into bigger smiles, and they turned to Harry excitedly.

“Lottie,” Louis said flatly. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his sister.

“I’m just saying,” she grinned. “Maybe he’s here to take pictures.”

Harry’s eyes went from Lottie to Louis, back and forth. His mind was spinning. He wasn’t used to so many things happening at once.

“Maybe he is,” Louis sighed, finally standing up. He placed his hands on his hips again. “Do you think we should bother Harry?” he asked, this time facing the twins. The girls’ eyes widened to saucers as they shook their heads seriously.

“No,” they said in unison, glancing uncertainly at Harry.

“It’s, um. No bother,” Harry ventured nervously, looking at Louis. Louis’ eyes flickered to Harry’s, then back to Lottie’s. The two seemed to be having a silent debate. Finally, Lottie snapped her gum loudly and sighed.

“Fine, I’m going to go text Ryan,” she said, turning to walk away. She stopped, however, and cast an amused glance at Harry. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

“You too,” Harry replied, forcing a confused smile. Harry turned to face Louis again, and found him to be staring at Harry. It was probably obvious that Harry had no experience with children at this point.

A small voice cut through the sudden silence. “Harry? Are you going to take our picture?”

Louis sighed and hung his head, and Harry cast an amused glance at the twin who had spoken.

“Do you want me to?” Harry asked, meeting her blue eyes that were so much like Louis’.

“Uh-huh. You can take our picture on the swings,” the other twin added shyly.

“Harry, you don’t have to—“ Louis began, but Harry shook his head.

“It’s no problem. I’ve got time,” Harry assured him, smiling at the twins. They giggled and smiled back.

“Will you push us, Lou?” a twin, who Harry thought was Daisy, asked.

Louis gave her a long look, then glanced inquisitively at Harry. Harry smiled tentatively in return, already unzipping his camera bag.

“Five minutes,” Louis cautioned them, and the girls cheered and ran off to the swings. Louis smiled reluctantly and then faced Harry.

“They’re going to love you forever,” he quipped, and Harry blushed and smiled back. Then Louis turned and jogged to the swings, where the twins had scrambled into the seats side by side. He stood behind them and gave each girl a gentle push.

Harry pulled his camera back out of the bag and stood. He walked closer to the swing set, where the girls were swinging higher now. Harry grinned and raised the camera to his face.

“Say cheese,” Harry called, and the girls smiled right at the camera.

“Cheese!” they exclaimed, then burst into giggles. Harry snapped the picture.

“Good job,” he told the girls as he lowered the camera. He caught Louis’ eye where he now stood beside the swings, watching his sisters. Louis smiled softly and mouthed, “thank you.”

Harry grinned and nodded, then mouthed back, “welcome.”

Harry definitely wasn’t used to working with children, but his heart felt light now. He had made the girls’ day, and Louis was smiling, and the sun was beating down on his shoulders. He suddenly had an idea.

“Want to take a picture on the slide?” Harry asked the girls, and their eyes lit up. They slowed their swinging, and their little feet made dust fly up from the ground as they slid to a stop. They wordlessly ran to the slide, this time politely taking turns, and Harry smiled.

He took each girl’s picture going down the slide, and then one of them sliding down together. After that, it just kind of happened. He got photos of the girls swinging upside down on the monkey bars, and running through the grass, and playing hopscotch. He got one of Louis and Lottie on the swings, laughing with no iPhones in sight. The afternoon wore on, and finally Harry ran out of film. He looped the camera strap over his shoulder and held his hands up empty to show the girls.

“All done,” he announced. “You guys did great!”

“Can we keep playing? Lou, please?” they asked Louis with hopeful eyes.

Louis smiled fondly and replied, “five more minutes. It’s getting dark.”

The girls cheered and raced each other to the swings. Harry stood watching them for a moment, conscious that Louis was watching him.

“Wanna sit?” Louis finally asked, nodding to the bench where Harry had been sitting.

“Sure,” Harry nodded back. Together, they walked towards the bench. Harry took a moment to zip up his camera in its bag, and then settled in to the bench. And then he didn’t know what to say. It appeared Louis was at a loss, too. He was watching the girls swing, and every so often would glance at Lottie to check on her, but Harry could tell he was in his own world.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Harry murmured, staring out across the playground.

Louis laughed softly and shook his head.

“Do you ever wish you were that young again?” he asked.

“Hmm,” Harry replied. “Sometimes, when I have a ton of homework, or I have no ideas for a project,” Harry admitted.

Louis nodded wordlessly beside him.

“You?” Harry asked then.

Louis stared down at his lap for a moment. “Sometimes. Just because things were easier then.”

Harry nodded, contemplating Louis’ words. “I don’t think I’d go back, though.”

Louis turned to look at Harry then, and Harry was struck by how much older Louis looked. “Me neither.”

For a moment, they sat just staring at each other. Louis’ blue eyes looked a shade darker in the fading afternoon light. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lottie raise her phone in their direction and suspected she was taking not-so-sneaky pictures. Harry turned to look back over the playground.

“Still thinking about those alternate universes?” Harry asked softly.

Louis laughed quietly. “Sometimes.”

“What are you doing in them?” Harry replied.

“Hmm. I guess…playing soccer in college, but studying to be a teacher in one. Raising kids in another, a whole house full. Maybe in one I move away from this town and never come back.”

Harry considered what Louis had said. Some of their universes overlapped, but Harry kept that to himself.

“You could do all those things,” he said instead.

Louis nodded thoughtfully. “I could. If I could just get there.”

“You will,” Harry assured him. “The whole town’s rooting for you.”

Louis stared at Louis then, eyes wide and nervous. “A lot of people to let down then.”

Harry narrowed his eyes in thought. “Do you think you’ll fail? Really?”

Louis paused for a moment, thinking. “No. I don’t know.”

Harry smiled wryly. “In the immortal words of Journey, ‘Don’t stop believin’.’”

“Oh my god,” Louis grinned. “You’re as bad as Niall.”

Harry grinned back. “He wants to start a boy band. Wanna join?”

Louis threw his head back and laughed. “Sure.”

“So if the soccer thing doesn’t work out, you’ll always have us,” Harry quipped.

Louis nodded, smiling down at his lap. “Good to know.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the late afternoon chill to the air. Harry snuck a glance at Louis’ profile from the corner of his eye. To him, Louis looked like he had been sculpted by a sculptor. His artist’s eye took in the straight nose, high cheekbones, long lashes, and strong jawline. Harry had a feeling this moment would be burned in his mind forever.

“Do you think we’re friends in those other universes?” Louis asked, finally breaking the silence.

Harry thought about that for a moment. “Would you like to be?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Louis asked, finally turning his face to study Harry’s.

Harry knew he was blushing, and his hands had started sweating a little. But he couldn’t look away.

“I would,” Harry replied softly, mesmerized by Louis’ eyes.

“Me too.”

“Ok,” Harry said, blinking slowly.

“Ok,” Louis echoed, smiling an enigmatic half smile. “It’s settled then. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Harry replied, unable to stop his wide smile. “Good.”

Louis opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a small voice. Harry had not even heard the girls approach them.

“Lou? It’s getting dark.”

Louis’ eyes snapped forward to meet his sister’s. He scanned the otherwise empty park, and nodded. Louis straightened up and reached forward to zip the twins’ jackets.

“Yes, it is. Let’s tell Harry bye. And thank you,” Louis suggested.

Two pairs of blue eyes met Harry’s then, and the twins smiled and said in unison, “Thank you.”

If Harry wasn’t already charmed, he definitely was now. “You’re welcome.”

Louis turned toward a nearby bench, where Lottie was still absorbed in her phone. “Lots, it’s time to go,” he called. Lottie looked up and nodded.

Louis stood with the twins as he waited for Lottie to walk over. He glanced at Harry and smiled. “See you at school, ok?”

Harry felt several pairs of eyes on him as he nodded. “Ok.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Harry,” Louis said, smiling.

Harry couldn’t help his answering smile when it came. “Happy Thanksgiving, Louis.”

Louis nodded once, then checked to make sure everyone’s jacket was zipped. Then he herded them towards the gate, taking a twin’s hand in each of his own. Lottie lingered a moment, zipping her own jacket up. She glanced at Harry and smiled knowingly.

“See you around, Harry,” she said. Then she turned to follow the others home.

Harry sat on the bench a few moments more, trying to process what just happened. He and Louis were friends now, apparently. He wondered if things would change, or if the rest of his school year would go as planned. A text dinged on his phone, and he dug it out of his pocket. Perrie.

_Happy Thanksgiving, H. I’m thankful to have you as a friend._

Harry smiled down at his phone, thinking fondly of everything he and Perrie had been through together. He wondered if one day, he and Louis would be texting each other on holidays and birthdays and average days as well. Wondered what it would be like having Louis as a friend from now on. Harry bit his lip and texted Perrie back, then stood to make the long walk home in the gathering dark. He hummed “Don’t Stop Believin’” as he went, reflecting on the day.

_Thankful for you, too. Wait till you hear what happened._

_*_


	3. Chapter 3

III.

 

“The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.”

\--Andy Warhol

 

 

For as long as he could remember, Harry could count on one hand the number of real friends he had. It didn’t bother him most of the time that all he had was Perrie and his mother. But now suddenly, in just the space of a few months, Harry had several friends. At the Journal, he had Liam, Zayn, Niall, Jade, and Ed; he was definitely counting Professor James in that as well. In photography, and in life, Harry had Perrie. And now, apparently, he had Louis.

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s friend.

It almost didn’t seem real. Over the rest of Thanksgiving break, as Harry watched movie marathons with his mother and hung out with Perrie, it never quite sank in. In his sketchbook in his room, there was still the photo of a sad Louis at the end of a game, and a detailed sketch of Louis’ face that Harry didn’t like to look at. And now there was a roll of film on his desk full of pictures of the Tomlinson family. Harry was looking forward to developing those. He planned to give the pictures to Louis for Christmas. Friends gave each other Christmas gifts, right?

Harry wondered what his life would be like with someone like Louis in it. Would things change? As a rule, Harry didn’t much like change. But there were moments lately that he felt as though he would itch out of his skin if something didn’t change. Harry couldn’t explain it. He wondered how much of that was because of Louis and how much was just senior year anxiety.

Speaking of which, Harry still had a senior project to complete, and time was ticking. He thought about it all the time, but there were only so many hours in the day. The last thing Harry wanted to do was to show up for Professor Swift’s class empty-handed again. So on the last night of Thanksgiving break, Harry bundled up and made the long walk to school. He walked with his head down and hands stuffed in his pockets to try to keep warm in the November chill. There was no one out on the streets of Jackson, and the early darkness that fell each day made it feel like midnight rather than 5 pm. But Harry was used to feeling alone.

Harry trudged up the stairs of the deserted school to the photography lab, keyed in the passcode, and entered. It looked like no one had been here all during the holiday. Harry sighed, flipping the lights on as he went from station to station. At least it was warm in here. Harry selected his usual darkroom and flipped on the red light that hung outside the door. Inside the room, he prepared a pitcher of water and got the chemicals ready for his roll of film. He dug out his phone and headphones to listen to some music as he worked.

Alone in the darkroom for the first time in a week, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He had loved spending time with his mom over the break, but he needed some time alone. He got his best thinking done in the darkroom. When the pitcher of water had reached the desired temperature, Harry switched off all the lights and began unrolling his film from the plastic canister. He deftly hooked the edge of his film around a metal spool and began to slowly wind it around. He knew to take his time on this part, and handle the film like it was delicate. It was. Even though Harry was excited to see this roll of film, he took his time and did it right. What was the rush anyway?

Harry hadn’t intentionally chosen Fleetwood Mac for his music; it was just the last thing he had played recently. As “Rhiannon” began to play through his headphones, Harry hummed along. Whenever he heard the line “All your life you’ve never seen a woman taken by the wind,” Harry always thought of his mother. Something about her strength and independence had always inspired him. She had raised him to be self-sufficient, and Harry was grateful for that. But sometimes he wondered if he isolated himself from others.

Harry shook his head and sighed, trying to clear his head. Wasn’t he isolated enough as it was? What was the point of drawing away from the people who wanted to get to know him? It struck Harry then that he had a whole group of friends now, and they would probably like him if they got to know him. He could dwell on the years he spent alone, or he could move on and make some memories with these people before everyone went their separate ways at the end of the year. The choice was his.

Harry carefully dropped the spool of fresh film into a canister to let it soak. He set the old timer on the table, then leaned against the table to wait. There was a chair in the corner, but Harry preferred to stand when he worked. As the film soaked, Harry imagined what school would be like tomorrow. Would he see Louis? Would they speak to one another? Would Professor Swift like these photos? God, he hoped so; Harry really felt like he was on the right track with these kind of pictures.

When the film was ready, Harry carefully poured the solution out of the canister and pulled the spool out. He unwound the wet film from the spool, cutting it into strips to let dry. He opened the door of the darkroom and switched on the lights for a moment to examine his negatives. At first glance, the contrast of the black and white was good. There were a few blurs where Harry had photographed the twins swinging on the swing set. But otherwise, it looked crisp. Harry sighed in relief and walked into the main classroom. He prepared the negatives for the next step as Stevie Nicks sang, “Would you stay if she promised you heaven? Will you ever win?”

A glance at the ancient clock on the wall showed it was only 6:30. Harry had plenty of time. He retrieved a new pack of photo paper from his bag. He carried a few sheets into the next part of the lab, where he would enlarge the photos and then develop them in a series of chemicals. Harry took a few minutes to set out trays of water and solutions for that step. As he poured the familiar-smelling chemicals into trays, Harry thought about Louis’ theory of multiple universes.

In another world somewhere, Harry wondered what a grown-up Harry would be doing now. It was a Sunday night in late November. He had a new friend, Louis. Only in this world, they had exchanged numbers and texted throughout the day. Nothing important, usually; just funny things that happened to them or things they saw. Harry imagined in that world, Louis wasn’t burdened with choosing a college and Harry wasn’t anxious about getting into art school. They were free to just be. Maybe they had late-night picnics on the deserted soccer field and stargazed. Maybe they held hands. Maybe Harry didn’t go to sleep and wake up feeling alone. Here in his own universe, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That dream was wonderful, but he imagined that universe was millions of light years away.

Harry began enlarging the negatives onto the photo paper then. He started with one of the twins holding hands, sitting in their swings. Their smiles were bright, and they looked happy and carefree. Harry kind of understood what Louis was talking about when he wished he could be that age again. Harry imagined then a universe where he and Louis had grown up friends, from elementary school all the way to senior year. They were inseparable, and Louis was protective of Harry even though they were the same age. Maybe they built a treehouse in Anne’s backyard and spent long summer nights camped out there, telling ghost stories. Harry smiled wistfully. He couldn’t imagine having a friend like that his whole life. Did they grow up and go their separate ways, or did they stick together? Harry mused over that as he carried the print of Louis’ sisters to the first tray of chemicals.

As the photo bloomed to life, Harry wondered for the millionth time what he would do for his senior project. Should he take the professor’s advice and ask his friends for help? Even his mother had suggested he try that. Harry’s stomach twisted nervously at the thought of asking his friends at the Journal for help. Or asking Louis for help. Harry thought back on the dark circles under Louis’ eyes, and his tired smile. He was just as exhausted as Harry. It didn’t seem fair to ask him for even more of his time.

While the photo was soaking in developing solution, Harry returned to the enlarger machine and began working on a new picture. This was one of Louis and his sister, Lottie sitting on the swings. They were laughing about something, Harry didn’t remember. But they looked happy. Harry focused a beam of light onto the negative and watched it appear on the photo paper underneath. When he was satisfied with the print, he carried it to the first tray and switched the other photo to the next tray. He went on like this, gradually making more and more prints, until his shoulders began to ache and he couldn’t stop yawning. Harry was worn out, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. He carefully clipped his new photos to the clothesline in the room to let them dry. No one would bother them tonight. Harry cleaned up his trays, wiped down the table, and flipped the lights. He was too tired to wash the chemicals off his hands, so he grabbed his bag and headed home. As he prepared for bed and crawled in bed, staring up at his ceiling, Stevie Nicks’ voice echoed in a loop through Harry’s head.

_Will you ever win?_

*

Monday morning found Harry arriving early to photography class to collect his photos from the night before. He had woken before his alarm and stumbled around in his dark bedroom, throwing clothes on that he vaguely hoped matched. A glance in the mirror showed his hair was unusally unruly today, so he pulled an olive green beanie on and left for school. In the darkroom, Harry carefully unclipped his photos from the class clothesline and stacked them neatly on a nearby table. Hopefully, Professor Swift would be able to tell him if he was on the right track or not. Voices out in the classroom signaled that other students were arriving, so Harry scooped up his photos and walked out to grab a seat for himself and Perrie.

Harry had explained to Perrie, in detail, all about his run-in with Louis at the park, and about their new friendship. Perrie had watched with a secret smile, but didn’t interrupt the entire time. Finally, she had simply hugged Harry tight and whispered, “proud of you,” into his ear. So as Perrie made her way into the classroom and slid into the seat next to Harry, he simply slid the stack of photos onto her desk without comment.

Perrie grinned and eagerly flipped through the photos, clearly charmed as Harry was by Louis’ adorable little sisters. She held each photo delicately by the edges, smiling as she went. As the professor strolled into the classroom, Perrie glanced up at Harry and winked.

“These are beautiful, H,” she whispered as the professor stood in front of his desk.

“Thanks,” Harry said, blushing a little.

“Good morning, class! I hope you had a wonderful break,” Professor Swift began with a placid smile. “Now, I hope you’re ready to get back to work!”

The class groaned and mumbled as he began to explain the final project of the semester. Harry tried to pay attention, but his eyes kept cutting back to the stack of photos on Perrie’s desk. He hoped the professor would like them.

For their final project before Christmas break, the professor assigned the class to photograph someone a generation older than them and interview them. Seemed pretty easy, all things considered. Harry just had to find a subject.

“And no, you cannot choose me,” the professor said before anyone could ask. Harry caught Perrie’s eye and rolled his eyes. She giggled and looked down at her notes, pretending to think hard. Harry knew Perrie had grandparents nearby who she could photograph. Now Harry just had to find someone to work with.

After class, Harry said goodbye to Perrie and hung around until the rest of the students filed out. Then he approached the professor’s desk with growing nerves. Professor Swift looked up over the rim of his glasses and smiled.

“Good morning, Harry. What can I do for you?”

Harry smiled nervously. “Good morning. I have some new photos, and was hoping you’d take a look?”

The professor smiled and nodded. “I’d love to.”

Harry nodded back and pulled his new stack of photos out of his bag. He placed them on the professor’s desk and took a deep breath. This was the hard part: watching someone evaluate your work. The professor studied the top photo, one of the twins playing hopscotch together while Louis smiled from the side. He didn’t speak yet, but slowly made his way through the stack. Harry waited with bated breath.

Finally, the professor looked at the last photo, of Louis and Lottie swinging together. He looked up and gave Harry an inquisitive look.

“Harry, these are remarkable. May I ask, how they came to be?”

Harry bit his lip. “Actually, I kind of ran into them in the park. It just kind of happened.”

The professor narrowed his eyes and nodded. “As always, technically these are very accomplished. But do you know what sets them apart from your previous work?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head no. He had no clue.

The professor smiled. “They’ve got heart, Harry. Look how simply yet expertly you captured these little girls’ day at the park. It’s not just a photo; it’s a memory. Time really does fly, Harry. Before you know it, they’ll be grown up. You get the sense from these photos that you’re trying to preserve these moments forever. That’s what photography is all about.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You mean…you think these are…”

“In a word, expert,” the professor replied with a smile. “You made good choices here, not just in taking the photos, but developing them as well. Well done, Harry.”

“I…thank you, wow,” Harry said a little breathlessly. “Really, thank you.”

“Consider doing something like this for your senior project, Harry—if you don’t already have a direction in mind. You’ve grown leaps and bounds as a photographer this year. I’m confident that if you stay the course, you’ll have no trouble getting into any art school you choose.”

Harry was speechless. He tried to form words, but nothing came out. In the silence that followed, the professor carefully stacked Harry’s photos in a neat pile and handed them to Harry.

“It might be a little overwhelming, Harry, but I’ve never doubted your potential. You’re meant to do great things one day. Don’t give up.”

Harry felt tears well in his eyes at that, and blinked rapidly to clear them. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Thank you, professor. I won’t give up.”

Professor Swift smiled back. “I know.”

For a moment, Harry had another out of body experience. He was hovering above himself and the professor, looking down on their conversation. For the first time, Harry observed how tired and small the professor looked right then. Harry was shocked to see someone larger than life look so, well, human. And there he, Harry stood, young and brimming with excitement. Harry suddenly wondered if the professor ever wanted to get out of Jackson. If he ever looked down the road past the city limits and dreamed of something bigger. Yet here he sat.

As if reading Harry’s mind, the professor smiled wryly. “Of course, if it was your dream to come back to Jackson one day, that would be fine too. They’ll need a good teacher to fill in when I retire. And we can never have too many good photographers here.”

Harry cracked a smile then. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The professor grinned and nodded, concluding their conversation. “Thank you for sharing, Harry. Keep up the good work.”

Harry tucked his photos back into his bag and smiled a little wider. “Thank you, professor.”

Harry turned to leave the classroom, finally ready to get lost in the sea of students in the halls of Jackson High. He felt the need to just blend into the crowd and not think for a while. He cast one more look at the professor, who appeared to be staring contemplatively at a poster stuck on the adjacent wall. In sweeping cursive letters, the poster simply read, “Dreams don’t work unless you do.” Harry smiled inwardly and left the classroom to face the rest of the day.

*

Harry walked into Professor James’ classroom for the Jackson Journal meeting feeling confident. The Thanksgiving issue had gone to press and the student body was still talking about Niall and Zayn’s article. (It turned out Niall did actually have a job at the paper, contrary to appearances.) The two had surveyed several students about their favorite Thanksgiving traditions and memories. A few people had submitted funny family photos to go along with their stories. All in all, it was one of the more memorable issues of the Journal. Meanwhile, Harry’s photos of the soccer games continued to impress the readers. He was now on a first name basis with a few soccer players, and the coach simply called him Styles. Harry had done some quality work, and he had new friends, and he was feeling pretty good.

Naturally, that’s when Harry turned the corner to enter the classroom and saw Louis Tomlinson sitting next to Liam.

Harry froze in the doorway, much like he had on his first day when he had stumbled in holding a yellow flyer. Any hope he had of sneaking in covertly was dashed when Niall turned and called out, “Hey Harry!” for everyone in a five mile radius to hear.

Several pairs of eyes, including Louis’, turned to stare at Harry. He could feel himself blushing under the scrutiny.

“Um. Hey guys,” Harry replied quietly. He met Professor James’ eyes from across the room, and she winked and smiled. Then the rest of the class chimed in with hellos. A few people went back to their conversations, and Harry let out a sigh and took a seat next to Zayn. He murmured a hello and chanced a look at Zayn, only to find him already staring at him.

“Hey man,” Zayn replied with a half smile. “Good break?”

Harry smiled and nodded. “Pretty good; you?”

Zayn shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “Not bad.”

Harry always got the feeling that Zayn was in on a joke that Harry didn’t know. This was one of those times. Zayn stared across the room at Liam and Louis for a moment, then turned to smile at Harry.

“Do you know why he’s here?”

Harry glanced at Louis, trying to act unaffected. When he looked back at Zayn, Harry frowned. “No. Do you?”

Zayn shook his head, studying Harry closely. “Nope. Just thought you might.”

Harry was more confused than ever. He opened his mouth to further question Zayn, but the bell rang. Professor James rose from her desk and stood before the class.

“Good morning, Journal. Welcome back. I’ve got a treat for you today.”

Harry exchanged a look with Zayn at the mention of a treat.

“As you probably know, every year the Journal hosts a guest editor chosen by a group of students and teachers here. This upcoming issue will feature our guest editor. I believe you all know Louis Tomlinson,” she continued, giving Louis a welcoming smile.

“He’s going to be working with us through every phase of publication, so I hope you’ll make him feel welcome. Louis, would you like to add anything at this time?”

Louis looked around at all the faces in the classroom, briefly settling on Harry’s.

“Um, hi,” he began, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry smiled encouragingly back at him.

“Thank you for having me. I’ll try not to get in your way too much,” he continued. “I’m just really flattered to be here, so thank you.”

Professor James nodded in thanks and then began brainstorming lists on the board for the upcoming Christmas issue. Harry glanced at Zayn and found him to be scribbling in his small spiral notebook, lost in thought. He focused his attention on Louis and Liam, who were chatting quietly. Harry thought about the stack of photos in his bag at the moment, but for some reason now didn’t seem like the right time to show them to Louis.

As if he could sense someone was thinking about him, Louis scanned the faces in the classroom one by one. Harry averted his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring. He opened his notebook to a fresh page and copied some notes down from the board. He tried to process everything that had happened in the last ten minutes. Louis would be working with each of them, apparently. Harry’s heart beat a little faster at the thought of working together with Louis.

The professor gave them a few moments of free time at the end of class, and Harry looked up from his notes. A few students were crowded around Louis’ desk, talking with him. Harry briefly wondered how Louis was going to handle the added work of the Journal, on top of soccer and scholarships and school in general.

By now, Harry should’ve learned to expect the unexpected. But when Louis rose from his seat and plopped down next to Harry, Harry froze. He had to remind himself to breathe. They were friends now, weren’t they? Friends talked. Harry could do this.

“Hey,” Louis began with a tentative smile.

“Hey,” Harry echoed. He shifted in his seat to face Louis.

“So, I’m going to be writing an editorial for the paper,” Louis continued, “but I also want to get involved in what you guys are doing. I was wondering if, um. If I could like, observe you working on photos for the paper.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. Louis wanted to work with him?

“Um, sure,” Harry replied, trying not to blush. “That sounds cool.”

Louis smiled and gave Harry a thumbs up. “Awesome. Any way I can help, just let me know. Oh, and Harry?” he asked, rising from the seat.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, tracking his movements with wide eyes.

Louis’ smile softened. “My sisters can’t stop talking about you. Thanks again.”

Harry was sure his heart was beating out of his chest. “Anytime,” he said, and he found that he meant it.

Louis nodded in farewell and went back to his seat with Liam. Harry was aware that Zayn had stopped scribbling in his notebook, and was now watching Harry. Harry slowly turned to face Zayn, still blushing from talking with Louis.

Zayn smiled broadly. “So.”

Harry sighed. “So?”

“So, you and Tomlinson, huh?” Zayn wiggled his eyebrows. Any other time, Harry would have laughed at the sight.

“Um, no. We’re friends,” Harry said, suddenly feeling tired.

“Right,” Zayn replied, sounding unconvinced.

“No, really. We’ve discussed it.” Harry instantly regretted sharing that fact. He cringed in expectation of Zayn’s reply.

“Really?” Zayn asked, his smile spreading.

“I mean…what I mean is, um. We’re just friends,” Harry stumbled over his words. “Really.”

Zayn narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering over Harry’s shoulder in Louis’ direction. When his focus returned to Harry, his grin was insufferable. “Ok. Whatever you say, man.”

Harry groaned and dropped his head on his desk. He feebly pulled his beanie down over his head, wishing he could disappear. Why was high school so embarrassing?

Harry was about to reply, but once again the bell beat him to it. Harry snuck a glance at Zayn to find him staring at Harry with an amused smile.

“You guys are cute, is all I’m saying,” he murmured to Harry as he rose from his desk. “Later, Harry.”

Harry waved without looking up and sighed. He knew he would have to get up eventually, but he wished he could fall into a crack in the earth and wake up in another universe where he didn’t blush every time he heard Louis’ name. But Harry had never been that lucky.

*

By lunchtime that day, the whole school was buzzing about the new guest editor for the Journal, and what that might involve. Harry heard mentions of Louis’ name in the halls whispered excitedly amongst classmates. As he made his way to the lunchroom, Harry mentally prepared himself for the conversation that was sure to come with Perrie.

He found her sitting at their usual lunch table off to the side, scrolling through something on her phone. A tray of what Harry assumed was country fried steak sat untouched in front of Perrie. At the sound of Harry’s footsteps, Perrie looked up and grinned.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” she began, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Perrie,” Harry replied resignedly. Might as well get this over with.

“So, I heard an interesting rumor today,” Perrie continued, setting her phone down beside her lunch tray.

“Really?” Harry asked in faux surprise. “Did Niall eat six cheeseburgers again? That’s a school record.”

Perrie rolled her eyes. “Ha! Who knows. But no, that’s not what I heard.” She took a sip of soda, staring at Harry over the rim of her glass. “Want to know what everyone’s talking about?”

Harry sighed. “Sure.”

Perrie leaned closer across the table and whispered, “Louis Tomlinson is working with you on the paper. As if you didn’t know.”

Harry knew this was coming, but he still found himself blushing. “Not just me, though. He’s working with everyone. It’s not a big deal.”

Perrie’s smile widened. “Mhm. Right. You’re just gonna be spending lots of time together alone in the darkroom.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It sounds dumb when you say it like that. Besides, he’ll probably be too busy with everyone else. Nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m not worried; I couldn’t have planned this better if I’d tried. And I have a feeling he’ll make time for you, H.”

Harry squinted skeptically. He snuck a glance over his shoulder at Louis’ usual table, where all the cool kids gathered at lunch. He could barely see Louis through the throng of friends and admirers there.

“If you say so,” Harry shrugged, turning back to face Perrie. “We’ll see.”

“Yes we will. Just try and give him a chance—no one is good their first time in the darkroom.”

Harry hadn’t thought about that yet; in his mind, Louis was automatically good at everything he tried. The idea of having to walk Louis through a concept Harry found easy felt weird. But he couldn’t deny his pulse quickened at the thought of showing Louis his own little world. Would Louis like taking pictures and working in the lab? Harry shook his head as if to clear his mind. He was getting ahead of himself, as usual, worrying about things that might not even happen.

“I hope he likes smelling like chemicals and standing around in the dark then,” Harry quipped.

“I have a feeling he won’t mind at all,” Perrie smiled mysteriously, and then stared innocently at her phone screen.

Left alone with his thoughts, Harry was equal parts excitement and nerves. He was a little hesitant to let someone into his private world in the lab, afraid that Louis would get bored or even worse, never show up. Taking Louis to the lab was more nerve-wracking than taking him home to meet his mother. God. He decided then and there to give Louis a chance before writing him off completely, though. It was the least he could do for a friend.

*

Harry’s main assignment for the Christmas issue of the Journal, according to Professor James, was to photograph the big Christmas dance. She explained to Harry later that week exactly what she had in mind.

“Basically, Harry,” the professor said one afternoon, “I want to see the whole process of the dance. Let our readers into the behind-the-scenes action.” She stirred some sugar into a glass of iced tea as they talked in her classroom.

“Okay…” Harry said, a little uncertain of what that would involve.

“What I mean is, try to document the preparation for the dance. The signs up in the hallways, the decorating process in the gym, and action shots the night of the dance. The sky’s the limit, here, Harry. I trust your judgment.”

“I see,” Harry replied, jotting a few notes down in his notebook. “I’ll get with the decorating committee and go from there.”

“Excellent. Oh, and Harry? This may be a good assignment to bring Mr. Tomlinson in on. I believe he’d enjoy it. And it’s up to you how involved you want him to be, obviously.”

At the mention of Louis, Harry’s pencil froze on the page. He tried valiantly not to blush.

“Ok. I was thinking about taking him to the darkroom for a tour,” Harry said, trying to regain his composure. “Nothing too time-consuming, you know? I’m sure he’s busy with the rest of the staff.”

The professor smiled over her glasses at Harry. “That’s very considerate, Harry. And I’m sure anyone would be excited to glimpse behind-the-scenes of your work. Good idea.”

“Thanks, professor. I’ll just tell him the next time I see him then,” Harry said, flipping his notebook closed. He rose from his seat and smiled at Professor James.

“Thank you for doing this, Harry,” she said in conclusion. “I suspect school dances might not be your thing, so I appreciate you going out of your comfort zone. It’s the mark of a true professional.”

Harry bit his lip and nodded in farewell. As he ducked out of the classroom and headed back to his locker, it finally hit Harry: he would not be skipping this school dance as usual. For the first time in his high school career, Harry was going to a dance. He had nothing to wear, and no date. Panic rose in his throat at the thought. He dug out his phone and sent a quick message to Perrie, then sighed and headed towards his locker.

_I’ll give you $20 to go to the dance in my place and take pictures._

Her reply came instantly, and Harry groaned.

_Buckle up, Cinderella. We’re going to the ball._

*

Harry had been to approximately one dance in his public school career, and it had been enough to last a lifetime. It was sixth grade, the worst time in anyone’s life, when Harry had been asked by Jessica Harper to the end-of-year dance. She sat by Harry in music class, and though they rarely talked, Harry thought she was nice. She smelled like cotton candy and painted her nails pink. At the time, Harry was so amazed to be asked that he forgot a few key things: one, he had never been on a date before, and two, he didn’t know how to dance.

Looking back, that should have been enough for 12-year-old Harry to know this was a bad idea. But 12-year-old Harry was shy and lonely and knew somehow that this was the only offer he was going to get. So he said yes. Jessica planned everything, to Harry’s relief, and all he had to do was dress in dark gray (“charcoal, please” Jessica informed him) and be ready by 6:30 the night of the dance. Jessica’s mom’s maroon van pulled into Harry’s driveway as planned, and Harry awkwardly handed Jessica a pale pink corsage to match her color scheme for the evening. Jessica’s mother oohed and aahed over the corsage, and Jessica just blushed and said thank you.

At the dance, Harry had no sooner held the gym door open for Jessica and waved goodbye to her mom than Jessica made a beeline to her friends at the punch table. Harry felt a wave of nerves as he realized he was standing in the crowded gym all alone, so he dragged his clumsy feet over to Jessica and her friends. They giggled when he approached them and said hello.

“You don’t have to hang out with us, Harry,” Jessica had said as her friends whispered to each other. “Mom will be back to pick us up at 10.”

Harry’s stomach dropped and he realized that like the corsage on Jessica’s slim wrist, he was just an accessory tonight. He nodded, fighting a blush, and walked to a row of chairs framing the dance floor. He sat down, imagining everyone’s eyes on him sitting alone. Several songs that Harry had never heard played through the loud speakers overhead, and Harry watched as Jessica and her friends migrated to the opposite corner and sat talking for a long time.

Harry was seriously debating walking home when someone stomped up beside him and plopped down in the chair next to him with a huff. Harry turned incredulously to see a girl his age, dressed in periwinkle blue chiffon, with her arms crossed and a stormy expression on her otherwise pretty face. Before Harry could muster up a hello, she spoke.

“This place sucks.”

Harry could not agree more, but it was still unclear if she was talking directly to Harry, or just venting. The girl continued as if she hadn’t noticed Harry was watching.

“That bitch Leigh Anne knew I wanted to dance with Ricky, and she did it anyway. Who does that?”

At that, she turned to face Harry, bright blue eyes furious. Harry’s eyes widened, realizing someone was speaking to him.

“I…don’t know,” he replied lamely. But the girl took that as a sign of encouragement.

“I didn’t even want to come to this school,” she continued. “I knew it would suck.”

“It does suck,” Harry sighed, eyeing Jessica and her clique across the room.

“You know what else sucks?” the angry girl added.

“What?” Harry asked, both curious and slightly amused.

“This whole town. It blows.”

Harry grinned and looked at his shoes. “Yes, it does.”

“Oh my god, look at her. She’s a foot taller than Ricky in those heels. I can’t watch.”

Harry followed the girl’s line of sight, where a tall, slim girl was slow dancing with a stocky boy with braces. In the silence that followed, Harry realized the girl was staring at him.

“I’ve never seen you around school,” the girl observed, narrowing her eyes. “Are you new, too?”

Harry blushed and ducked his head. “Um, no. I just. Um. Blend in.”

To his surprise, the girl laughed. “Lucky. I wish I blended in more; this is the worst time of our lives, you know?”

Harry nodded, never agreeing with something more in his life. “Yep.”

“You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked.

“Nope.”

“One question: would you dance with Leigh Anne in those heels?” the girl asked, frowning at the couple on the dance floor.

“No,” Harry answered honestly, not ready to explain to this stranger why he didn’t want to dance with any girl, period.

The girl turned back to Harry and smiled. She stuck out a slender hand with nails painted a baby blue to match her dress.

“I’m Perrie.”

Harry looked at the girl’s hand for a moment, then cautiously shook it. “I’m Harry.”

“That rhymes. Want to be friends?” she asked, smiling genuinely this time.

“Sure,” Harry replied, smiling back.

“So you know who’s on my shit list,” Perrie quipped. “Who’s on yours?”

Harry glanced across the room, where Jessica was chatting with her friends. “Her.”

Perrie followed his line of sight and focused on Jessica. “She smells like she fell into a cotton candy machine.”

Harry squawked out a laugh, then slapped a hand over his mouth, blushing. But Perrie just cackled in response and patted him on the back.

“I’ve got _The Breakfast Club_ at home. Want to make waffles and watch it?” Perrie asked, laugher fading to a chuckle. “This place seriously sucks.”

“Let me call my mom,” Harry said, grinning. “Let’s get out of here.”

He rose and offered a hand to Perrie, who took it with a smile. She slipped off one heeled sandal, then the other, and sighed in relief. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Together, the two walked across the gym floor, ignoring the curious eyes of their classmates. Harry spared a thought for Jessica, and said a mental goodbye as he led Perrie out the gym doors.

He did not look back.

*

Sweater weather turned to coat weather in Jackson, and with it came the end of the fall soccer season. Harry was both relieved to be out of the range of concussions, and wistful at the thought of not seeing Louis’ green uniform again in action until the spring. If he had a soft spot for Louis’ slender, tan ankles and his shin guards, that was no one’s business but Harry’s.

The halls of Jackson High were now full of bundled-up students talking about just one thing: the upcoming school dance. In a town that small, in winter when the sun went down before dinnertime and there was nothing else to do, dance fever took over. Harry was regarding the event with a dread he usually reserved for AP Bio exams. While his fellow classmates chatted about dress fittings and gossiping about dates, Harry made his way through the halls with his head down like usual. He was counting down the days until the dance was over and he could move on with his life.

Days at the Jackson Journal were now spent preparing for the big Christmas issue. Zayn was researching the history of the school Snow Ball, as it was traditionally called. For some reason that no one could figure out, Niall was tasked with heading the decorating committee and the refreshment tables. Harry wasn’t sure what Liam’s role was, other than to supervise everyone else. And more often than not, when the Journal met in Professor James’ classroom, Louis was there.

It was never clear which class Louis was ditching to come to the meetings, but he didn’t seem worried. Harry slowly got used to entering the classroom and exchanging hellos with Louis, even if his classmates were watching curiously. He caught Zayn staring from time to time with a bemused smile, but Zayn never commented about Harry’s friendship with Louis again.

The days leading up to the dance were hectic for Harry; he spent his lunch period observing the decorating committee and photographing their progress in the school gym. Harry knew that in bigger, well-funded schools the students had their dances at event venues or fancy hotels, but Jackson was what it was. So Harry dutifully snapped photos of Niall hanging up streamers and the committee making posters advertising the Snow Ball.

Hanging out with Niall was an experience for someone quiet like Harry. Niall appeared to know everyone, and loved chatting with their classmates as he worked. Harry sometimes wondered how different his high school experience would have been if he’d met Niall sooner. He wondered if maybe he would have gone to more parties and made more friends. It was just another universe Harry liked to daydream about while Niall chatted on. One such day with the decorating committee, Niall brought up the inevitable.

“So Harry,” he began, carefully applying glitter to a sign that read _Let it Snow!_

“Hmm?” Harry asked, not looking up from his sketchbook where he had been doodling for a few minutes.

“Got a date for the big dance yet?” Niall asked.

Harry’s eyes widened, and his pencil dropped quietly to his lap. Heat rose in Harry’s cheeks, and he took a deep breath before looking at Niall.

“I, um. No, I don’t,” Harry admitted, biting his lip.

“I figured you’d go with Perrie; you two are always together,” Niall replied with a wink.

Harry laughed in surprise. “Perrie? Like, my best friend Perrie? I didn’t even think of that.”

Niall raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Really! I thought you two were, you know…”

“Nope,” Harry replied, laughter fading to a chuckle. “Just friends.”

“I see,” Niall nodded, focusing his attention on his poster. “So, is she going with anyone else, or?”

Harry really looked at Niall for the first time in this conversation, and found him to be blushing. He wouldn’t meet Harry’s eyes. A smile spread over Harry’s face as his suspicions sunk in.

“Ohh, I see,” Harry grinned.

“See what?” Niall said, pretending to be absorbed in his work.

“Niall.”

“Harry.”

“ _Niall_. Oh my god, do you like Perrie?” Harry whispered in excitement.

Niall’s eyes shot up to Harry’s. “Shh! Could you be any louder, Harry?”

“You do, don’t you?” Harry grinned.

“Of course I like her, what’s not to like?” Niall asked defensively.

“No, you like, _like_ her,” Harry countered gleefully.

“What are we Harry, twelve?” Niall grumped, but his face was bright pink.

“Are you going to ask her to the dance?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No. Maybe,” Niall replied slowly. “I don’t know.”

“You should do it. What if she likes you, too?”

Niall scoffed. “Me? I don’t know, Harry.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Harry suggested.

Niall sighed and set his tube of glitter aside. “We’ll see.”

“I’ll put in a good word for you,” Harry promised, smiling.

“Thanks, man. But what about you? Anyone I can set you up with?”

Harry’s smile dimmed. “Nah. Thanks though.”

“You sure? I’m a great wingman,” Niall assured him with a wink.

“Thanks, Niall. But I’ll be working the whole dance. No need for a date.”

“Hmm,” Niall mused. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Harry assured Niall. He smiled down at his sketchbook for a moment. Niall and Perrie? Well, why not? Harry was by no means a matchmaker, but it wouldn’t hurt to put in a good word for Niall. The look on Perrie’s face alone would be worth it. Harry spared a thought for the one person he would like to take to the dance, and then dismissed it. They had only been friends for a while, but Harry suspected Louis Tomlinson wasn’t the type to show up for a dance without a date.

*

As the day of the dreaded dance appeared, Harry started spending more and more time in the darkroom at school. He did have some actual photos to develop, but mostly he hung out alone on the old secondhand couch in the lab staring at his sketchbook. The deadline for his senior project was getting closer and closer, and Harry was beginning to panic. He didn’t mean to be short with his friends or mother, but Harry found his responses to even the most innocent questions were clipped or distracted. So Harry holed up in the lab alone, where he could do the least damage to the fewest people.

One such day found Harry in the empty classroom flipping through his sketchbook. It hadn’t been a bad day, just long. Harry might have skipped his last period PE class to hide out in the lab. He had set his iTunes to shuffle, and as luck would have it, Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” popped up first. If Harry wasn’t so exhausted, he might consider it a sign.

Harry was seriously considering putting away his sketchbook and just taking a nap when the classroom door opened. At first, Harry didn’t even look up; his classmates knew Harry liked to work alone. But when tentative footsteps stopped a few feet away from him, Harry sighed and looked up.

And promptly dropped his sketchbook.

Because standing in front of him, dressed in artfully faded jeans and a navy pea coat, was Louis Tomlinson. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, and Harry realized with a start that it must be time for the final bell. Louis was standing with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, smiling uncertainly.

“How…?” Harry began, and then his voice faded out.

Louis waved hello. “I thought you might be here. I passed Professor James in the hall, and she said you might be up here.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I am.”

Louis’ smile softened. “I see that. How are you, Harry?”

Harry bit his lip. “Ok, I guess. You?”

Louis ducked his head, examining his navy Tom’s. “Same.”

Through Harry’s phone speakers, Fleetwood Mac sang, “You can call it another lonely day.”

Louis’ head snapped up. “I like this song.”

Harry smiled in spite of his nerves and confusion. “Me too.”

“I, um. Guess you’re wondering why I’m bothering you,” Louis said.

Harry raised his eyebrows, conscious he was blushing faintly. “It’s no bother.”

Louis smiled a little nervously. “Thanks. Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot beside Harry on the couch. Harry nodded and moved his book bag to the floor.

“I’ve just been working with Liam and Niall this week for your Christmas issue. And I wanted to see if there was anything I could help you with,” Louis continued, dropping his backpack on the floor and taking a seat next to Harry.

Harry had almost forgotten his promise to Professor James to work with Louis. He felt a little guilty that he hadn’t included Louis in his work so far.

“Um, sure,” Harry replied. He retrieved his sketchbook from the floor, and it caught Louis’ eye. Harry noticed he had scrawled “Given a chance” in loopy cursive on the page amidst doodles. He flipped the book closed and stashed it in his bag.

“I’ll have more photos after the dance, but I can show you what I’ve got so far,” Harry said.

Louis nodded and smiled. “Cool.”

“Be right back.”

Harry stood and walked in to the developing room, where his latest photos were clipped to the clothesline. He pulled them down, making sure they were dry enough, and made his way back to Louis. As an afterthought, he grabbed a spare spool and a practice roll of film from the supply closet on his way.

Louis was typing something on his phone when Harry reentered the room, but pocketed it quickly when he heard footsteps.

“Um, these are the photos I’ve got so far,” Harry said a little awkwardly. He handed Louis the stack of photos. He watched as Louis slowly flipped through the pages, holding them carefully by the edges.

“These are great, Harry,” he finally said, landing on a photo of Niall painting a poster for the dance. The glittery letters showed up nicely in the photo.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured. “Like I said, there will be more after the dance. If you want, you can help me with those?”

Louis smiled in surprise and met Harry’s eyes. “Really? I’d like that.”

“Cool,” Harry said, fidgeting with the spool and film.

“What’s that?” Louis asked, pointing to the items in Harry’s hands.

Harry looked down at his hands to see he had neatly wrapped the film around the spool without knowing it.

“Oh! I thought you might like to see these,” Harry replied. He shifted in his seat to face Louis and quickly unwound the film.

“This is just a practice roll, but it’s what the film looks like outside the camera. And this,” he said holding up the spool, “is the reel or spool used to develop the negatives. It goes like this.”

Harry worked slowly, hooking the end of the film around two small prongs and then winding it around and around.

“Once it’s wound up, you drop it into the chemicals to develop the negatives,” Harry said, finishing up the roll of film. He handed it to Louis.

Louis raised his eyebrows and nodded. “That’s cool. Can I try?”

“Sure,” Harry said. “Just unwind what I did and then I’ll show you.”

Louis pulled out the end of the film and began to unwind it. He looked up with alarm. “Is it supposed to crinkle like that?”

Harry grinned. He had wondered that the first time he had done this. “It’s ok on a practice roll, but avoid it on a real one. It should wind and unwind smoothly.”

Louis nodded in concentration. “Ok.” He slowly finished unwinding the film. “Now what?”

“Now we wind it back on,” Harry said. “See the little holes framing the edge of the film? You want to hook them on the little prongs to secure it.”

Louis frowned as he tried to hook the edge of the film on the tiny prongs. “Ok?” His fingers slipped, and the film fell into his lap. “This is harder than it looks.”

Harry chuckled and leaned closer. “Yes, it is. Here,” he said, offering a steady hand to Louis. Harry deftly hooked the film onto the spool and guided it back into Louis’ hands. “Now, wind it.”

Louis’ fingers brushed the back of Harry’s hand, and little sparks exploded across Harry’s skin. He bit his lip to concentrate, suddenly aware of how close they were sitting on the couch. Louis held the roll of film and tried to roll it around the spool, but it made the crackling sound. He looked at Harry with wide eyes.

“Ok, help.”

Harry bit back a grin and reached out both hands. Without thinking, he curled his hands around Louis’ smaller hands and showed him how to hold the film so it wouldn’t fall off the spool.

“Like this,” Harry murmured, slowly turning Louis’ hands around the spool. He had to remind himself to breathe, and his heart was beating so hard he suspected Louis could hear it. But his hands never faltered.

“Oh, I see,” Louis said softly. “Like this?”

Harry watched as Louis carefully wound the film around the metal spool, and this time it didn’t make a crackling sound. Harry nodded, and then realized Louis couldn’t see him.

“Good,” he praised. “You’ve got it.”

Louis smiled down at his hands as he gradually finished winding the roll. When the last bit of film was neatly wrapped around the spool, Louis looked up and grinned.

“I did it!”

Harry grinned back. “I knew you could.”

There was a comfortable moment of silence as they regarded each other in the empty lab. Then a thought entered Harry’s mind, and he smiled even bigger.

“Now…ready to try it in the dark?”

Louis’ jaw dropped. “You mean…you do this in the dark? Like, pitch black?”

Harry nodded, smiling wryly. “Yep.”

“God,” Louis murmured. “You must be good with your hands.”

Harry suspected Louis hadn’t meant to make a double entendre, but his face blushed red anyway. It took a moment longer for Louis to realize what he said.

“I mean, um. With the film, sorry,” Louis corrected, and Harry was amazed to see he was blushing too.

“That’s ok,” Harry said, trying to stifle a laugh. “I think that’s enough practice for today.”

“Yeah, ok.” Louis couldn’t meet Harry’s eyes as he handed back the roll of film and spool. His delicate cheekbones were flushed pink, and it was more adorable to Harry than it should be. Harry had the sudden urge to drop a kiss on that pink cheek, just because. Friends didn’t do that, though, did they?

“So, um. I’ll see you at the dance?” Louis asked, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes.

Harry’s stomach dropped and his smile faded at the mention of the dance. “Oh. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Louis nodded and smiled down at his lap. “Ok.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask Louis if he had a date, suddenly emboldened, when Louis’ phone dinged a notification.

Louis pulled his phone out of his coat pocket and frowned at the screen. He glanced up at Harry and bit his lip. “I’ve got to go, Harry. But, um. Thanks for teaching me. See you later?”

Harry watched Louis grab his backpack and stand up. For some reason, he had a lump in his throat.

“Yeah, later,” Harry echoed, and gave Louis a small smile. Louis nodded and turned to leave, and Harry had to avert his eyes from Louis as he walked away. His beloved lab suddenly felt lonely.

The door clicked neatly shut behind Louis, and then Harry really was alone. He groaned and flopped down against the old couch cushions. And that was a mistake. Because Harry could clearly smell washing detergent and a faint trace of cologne. The space was still warm from where Louis had been sitting there. Harry sighed and sat up slowly. He was fairly sure he was still blushing, that he had never really stopped since the first time he got hit with a soccer ball and Louis said “Oops.” He was clearly gone for Louis, and while that was awkward, he felt electricity thrum through his veins. In another of their universes, Harry had carefully taken the spool of film out of Louis’ hands and slowly pressed him back against the couch. He whispered, “I’m very good with my hands,” and then pressed a delicate kiss to Louis’ lips. Here in his own universe, Harry could feel the shock waves from that kiss as he slowly packed up his bag and walked towards the door. He buttoned his coat and braced himself for the cold evening air, but he felt warm to his core.

*

Whatever Harry’s reservations about the Snow Ball might have been, his mother Anne did not share them. In Harry’s opinion, she was a little too excited on his behalf about the dance. It was as if Perrie’s enthusiasm for the event had influenced Anne as well. Harry didn’t want to burden his mother with shopping for new dress clothes, because they frankly couldn’t afford it. But that didn’t stop Anne from tricking Harry into stopping by a local consignment shop one day on the way to Harry’s favorite photo supply store.

As Anne’s modest Honda Accord pulled into the parking lot of Twice as Nice, Harry groaned and thumped his forehead against the window.

“Mom, please,” Harry begged, noticing the sparkle in his mother’s eye that inevitably appeared when shopping was involved.

“Please what?” she asked distractedly, straightening up the car in a parking spot.

“Please take me literally anywhere but here.”

Anne turned to him in surprise. “Like the mall? Well sure,” she grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. “We are not driving to Springfield to buy overpriced clothes for a dance I specifically don’t want to go to.”

Anne sighed and deflated in her seat. “Well, thrift shop it is then. Come on. It’ll be quick and painless.” With a wink in Harry’s direction, Anne unbuckled her seatbelt and exited the car.

Harry sat there for a moment more, bracing himself for the shopping to follow. Personally, he didn’t see anything wrong with the dress pants he had been wearing since middle school. And it’s not like he had a date to impress here; Harry was going to be working taking pictures at the dance anyway. He shook his head in defeat and climbed out of the car.

Twice as Nice was one of several consignment shops in Jackson, where there was no mall nearby. Locals preferred to shop this way, because it was inexpensive. Anne liked it because she liked the challenge of hunting through several racks before she found something special. Most of the apparel in this store was women’s clothing, but there was a small section on the left for menswear. Anne headed that way while Harry browsed the small home section of the store.

Ever since he was a small child, Harry had liked to browse through the items in this section. He liked to look at antique crystal candlesticks and imagine where they came from, and how they ended up here. There was always a selection of chipped china and picture frames. Harry never bought anything, but he liked to look at the things people had left behind. One of his first photography experiments had been in this shop. He had been eleven years old, using his uncle David’s 1970s Canon AE-1. Harry had walked the racks of the store, taking photos of people’s old keepsakes, fur coats, and costume jewelry. It had been a fun day, just exploring a store full of memories and taking pictures.

Today, an older and more anxious Harry stood there, looking at those same racks and shelves. He felt like it was a lifetime ago that he had last been here. He could hear Anne sifting through a rack of men’s clothes, and remembered why he was here. He was going to his second ever school dance, with no date. He pulled out his phone, where minutes earlier he had texted Perrie.

_Got a date for the dance yet?_

To which she had replied, _Why? You asking? Lol_

 _Haha. Nope. I know someone who likes you,_ Harry typed back. He grinned imaging the look on Perrie’s face when she saw that. Sure enough, seconds later his phone dinged.

_What are we, ten? Who is it?_

Harry bit back a huge grin and wondered how he was going to say this. He had promised Niall he would put in a good word for him. But Perrie had been acting weird lately; anytime he would mention the Journal or hanging out with Niall and his friends, Perrie would beg off, saying she had something to do. She had been blushing enough to rival Harry lately. But he had given Niall his word, so it was now or never. He thought for a moment, then began typing.

_Someone from Liam’s party._

Three gray dots appeared where Perrie was already typing a response, but just then Anne called Harry’s name. He pocketed his phone with a grin and turned towards his mother.

“What do you think of this, Harry?” she asked, holding up a white button up shirt and a pair of black pants.

“Umm…” Harry began, winding his way through the racks closer to his mother. “Nice, but maybe not together? I’ll look like a waiter at Red Lobster,” Harry admitted biting his lip.

Anne sighed and hung the white shirt back on the rack. “Didn’t think of that.”

Harry flipped through the rack beside Anne, eventually pulling out a black button up shirt. “How about this?” he asked.

He held the shirt up for Anne to see, and she took a moment to inspect the buttons and look for any rips or mystery stains.

“Not bad. You want to try it on with the pants?” she asked.

“Not really. Can we just get them, and I’ll try them on at home?”

Anne sighed but smiled a little. “Story of my life. Sure. Let’s go.”

Harry cheered internally and gave his mother a quick hug. “Thank you.”

“You just want to go to the photo store, don’t you?” Anne asked suspiciously.

Harry shrugged and grinned. “Maybe.”

“Like I said; story of my life.”

Together, the two made their way to the register to pay for the dress clothes. They had only been in the store for fifteen minutes, so Harry counted it a win. Just then, his phone got a text. Perrie.

_You’re killing me here, H. Who is it? Don’t make me come over to your house._

Harry chuckled softly and typed a quick response, then followed his mother out the door of the shop.

_Might as well. Bring snacks, and I’ll tell you everything._

_*_

“In the movie of my life,” Perrie said an hour later, thoughtfully crunching a Dorito, “this is the moment where romantic music starts playing and a handsome man shows up at my door holding a bouquet of roses.”

Harry snorted a laugh and helped himself to a handful of chips. They were sitting on Anne’s couch, eating chips and gossiping like old ladies. Harry knew moments like this were limited since it was senior year, so he was determined to enjoy every one.

“That’s really sweet, Perrie.”

Perrie giggled and took a swig of Diet Coke. “Right? But my life is not a movie.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Harry said thoughtfully. Perrie lifted her soda can in cheers, and Harry clinked his Dr. Pepper against her can.

“Ok, so you might as well tell me. Who likes me?”

Harry’s smile dimmed a little, and he realized he was nervous for some reason. He didn’t anticipate being a wingman would be this hard.

“Well. So it’s someone you’ll like, I think? Someone really fun,” Harry hedged.

“Ok…?” Perrie asked, still confused as ever.

“And someone I would be totally fine with you marrying and living happily ever after with.”

“Harry.”

“Perrie.”

“The suspense is killing me.”

Harry sighed and took a long gulp of Dr. Pepper. “Ok. Just, when you’re laughing about this one day, tell him I did my best as a wingman, ok?”

“Ok…” Perrie replied, narrowing her eyes.

“So, it’s, um. Niall,” Harry said, unable to stop his grin.

Perrie’s mouth formed a perfect “O.” Her cheeks blushed a pretty pink, and she closed her eyes.

“Niall. As in, ‘let’s jump in this frozen pool for a laugh,’ Niall. As in, ‘drink this addicting yet poisonous punch’ Niall,” Perrie said faintly. She covered her face with her hands.

“Yep.”

“Don’t look at me,” Perrie groaned.

“What’s wrong? You don’t look so good,” Harry said cautiously. “Are you ok?”

“Oh my god,” Perrie murmured into her hands, unable to meet Harry’s eyes.

“What?!” Harry asked, really concerned now.

“Am I blushing?” Perrie asked, slowly dropping her hands.

“Very much, yes,” Harry said, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

“I, um. I just…” Perrie trailed off, looking down at the table.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“I was kind of hoping, um.” Perrie bit her lip and briefly met Harry’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Wait a second,” Harry said, narrowing his eyes as realization hit him. “Blushing, acting weird, avoiding eye contact…oh my god.”

“What?” Perrie asked, eyes widening innocently.

“Perrie.”

“Harry?”

“You like him!” Harry whispered, smiling broadly.

Perrie’s blue eyes snapped up to meet Harry’s. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“That’s exactly what he said!” Harry crowed triumphantly. “You’re getting married.”

“Harry,” Perrie mumbled pitifully through her hands, “he’s so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“Oh my god,” Perrie whispered, slowly looking up at Harry. “I do.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “You do?”

Perrie blushed even deeper. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Wow,” Harry mused, taking in Perrie’s demeanor.

“Yeah.”

“That’s great though, Perrie. I think you should beat him to it and ask him to the dance.”

Perrie bit her lip and met Harry’s eyes. “You think so?”

“I mean, only if you want. Or I can tell him you like him, and he can tell me to ask you to the dance for him, and I can tell him you said yes, and so on, like we’re ten years old.”

Perrie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That seems kind of silly.”

“Here’s his number,” Harry replied, pulling out his phone. “If you text him, it’ll make his day.”

Perrie hesitated, then took the offered phone from Harry’s hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“You don’t have to do anything now,” Harry reminded her. “We still have a week and a half until the dance.”

Perrie’s eyes widened in shock. “A week and a half? That’s it?! But there’s so much to plan!” She pulled out her own phone and added Niall’s number in, then frantically started texting. “What if he changed his mind?”

“Impossible,” Harry assured her.

Perrie stopped at his warm tone and smiled softly at Harry. “You know, I wish I could return the favor for you and find your perfect date.”

Harry smiled back wistfully. “Not gonna happen, Perrie.”

“I know. But promise you’ll take a few minutes at the dance to have fun?”

“I promise,” Harry vowed. “Now, finish your text. This ball isn’t going to plan itself.”

Perrie grinned and went back to texting Niall, and Harry’s smile faded a little. He couldn’t be happier for his friends, but he was thinking about alternate universes again. In one in particular, Harry shows up at Louis’ door at midnight, desperate to see him. He can’t pretend any longer. When Louis answers the door, looking adorably sleepy in pajamas, Harry simply says, “I can’t go on pretending you aren’t everything to me. Please do me the honor of going to the dance with me.” Louis is surprised, but smiles and replies yes, he will. In his own universe here and now, Harry sighed. It was too much to even dream something that wonderful could happen. Harry wasn’t used to dreaming that big. He took another sip of his soda, and then made up his mind then and there: he would go to the dance, take his photos, and then forget all about Louis Tomlinson for good. Some dreams weren’t meant to come true.

*

That night, Harry woke with a start from a deep sleep. It must have been the middle of the night, because his room was pitch dark and the house was quiet. He sat up, confused as to why he suddenly woke up. He wasn’t having a bad dream; he didn’t feel sick. Harry ran a hand through his messy curls and looked around his room. Same desk, piled with sketchbooks and rolls of film; same dresser; same window that looked out onto their quiet street.

Harry thought back to what he had been dreaming just before he woke up. He had been sitting at the beach with his mother, sipping tropical drinks. They were looking out on the horizon, where a storm was brewing. Their vacation appeared to be about to get rained on. Anne sighed beside Harry.

“Story of my life.”

It was the same phrase she had said earlier that day at the thrift shop, and for some reason, when dream Harry heard it, he woke up.

 _Story of my life_. For whatever reason, that really resonated with Harry. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he stumbled out of bed and grabbed his sketchbook. He flipped to an empty page and grabbed a pencil from the cup on his desk. He scrawled those four words on the white page, then stared at it for a moment. There was something satisfying about seeing those words on the page. Harry yawned and dropped the sketchbook onto the desk. He crawled back in bed. Hopefully, now he could get some sleep.

*

Truth be told, Harry forgot all about his dream inspiration when he woke up later that morning. He went to school, where he sat through classes and another Journal meeting where he tried desperately not to stare at Louis for an hour. He had lunch with Perrie. He met with Professor Swift at the end of the day to get some tips for photographing a dimly-lit school dance. It was a typical day for Harry.

He did not have any new photos to develop, so for once Harry went home at the same time as his classmates. He let himself into the empty house, flipping on lights as he went. In the kitchen, Harry grabbed a banana and half a bag of barbecue chips as a snack. He scrolled through Instagram as he ate, secretly pleased to see that Louis had never unfollowed him after his sisters sent him messages.

It wasn’t until Harry wearily made his way upstairs to drop off his bag and kick off his shoes that he saw his sketchbook, usually neatly closed, laying open on his desk. He frowned and walked over to the desk to see, in his own messy handwriting, a single phrase.

 _Story of my life_.

It all came back to Harry then; the dream of being at the beach with his mother, the approaching storm, and Anne, uttering those same words as their vacation turned stormy. But why had Harry taken the trouble to write that down? He pondered this as he flipped through the rest of his sketchbook for clues. There were a few incomplete drawings of Perrie and the Journal crew, and one of Louis. But there was nothing relating to that phrase. Harry sighed. After a moment’s debate, he grabbed the sketchbook and his camera, put them in his bag, and headed to the park. Maybe inspiration would strike him there.

It was a clear but cold day in November, so Harry wasn’t expecting to see anyone at the park. As he rounded the corner and the swing set came into view, though, Harry saw two little girls swinging together. Their now-familiar blonde hair was pulled into matching ponytails. For a moment, Harry panicked. If the twins were here, Louis was probably here, too. He had a split second to decide whether or not to stay before anyone saw him.

Harry shrugged and walked on into the park. Maybe it was fate for him to meet Louis in the park again. What would they talk about this time? They were friends now; they even hung out in the darkroom the other day. Harry took a moment to be honest with himself, and admitted he was glad to see Louis again. He was a little disappointed then to notice Louis was nowhere to be found. Another family was playing at the park, but as Harry scanned each face, he realized Louis wasn’t there. Harry tried to shake off the disappointment as he made his way to his favorite bench. He sat down and pulled out the sketchbook, then sat in silence for a moment. It was broken by a voice cutting through Harry’s thoughts.

“He’s not here.”

Harry looked around and saw, to his surprise, Louis’ sister Lottie standing beside him. He hadn’t even heard her arrive. Harry blushed, and hoped Lottie passed it off as the cold making his cheeks rosy. Harry didn’t know what to say to that.

“O…kay?” he finally managed to say.

Lottie popped her gum and pulled a phone out of her red coat pocket. “I can text him if you want though. He should be home.”

“No! I mean…no thank you,” Harry said with wide eyes. Harry would die of embarrassment on the spot.

Lottie snickered softly and pocketed her phone. “If you say so. Mind if I sit?”

Harry nodded, swallowing down his nerves, and put his bag on the ground to make room.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry replied, fidgeting a little with his hands. What was he supposed to say to the sister of his crush? Why didn’t they teach these kinds of things in school?

“Here to take pictures again?” Lottie asked, gesturing to the playground. “The girls would love that.”

Harry laughed softly. “Nah. I’m working on a project, but I don’t know where it’s going.”

“Hmm,” Lottie said thoughtfully. “Do you have any ideas yet?”

Harry debated for a moment before answering. What was he afraid of, Lottie stealing his ideas? Maybe two heads were better than one.

“Just one,” Harry admitted, running a hand through his hair. “The theme is going to be ‘Story of my life,’ but beyond that…no idea.”

Lottie raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Sounds cool.” She turned to face her sisters, who were now lining up for a turn at the slide. “So you have to photograph your life story?”

Harry sighed and deflated a little. “I don’t know. Maybe. Ugh.”

Lottie flashed him a sympathetic smile. “You’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll see,” Harry replied uncertainly. The two sat in easy silence for a few moments then, staring at the children playing on the swing set and slide.

“You know,” Lottie said, finally breaking the silence, “I remember being their age and coming to the park with Louis and my mom. I had the best time.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “What was your favorite part?”

Lottie thought for a moment, then grinned. “I used to beg Louis to push me on the swings. That was my favorite thing.”

Harry smiled, staring out at the playground. “That sounds nice.”

“We still have this picture,” Lottie continued with a smile, “of Louis standing behind me on the swing, about to start pushing. We were just kids. It’s hanging on my wall.”

“That’s so cool,” Harry replied. “I don’t have brothers or sisters, but my mom used to push me on the swings too.”

“Weird we never saw you here,” Lottie mused. “But you’re here now. The twins still talk about you and their photo shoot. If you’re half as good as Louis says, they’re wonderful photos.”

“Thank you,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his hands. “Is that why you followed me on Louis’ Instagram?”

Lottie frowned. “What? No, we just found you after the fact. Why, did you think…?”

“You mean…it wasn’t you?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused.

A wide smile spread across Lottie’s face. Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the late afternoon light. “Nope. Which means…Louis followed you all on his own.”

Harry was speechless. That fact somehow changed everything. In the silence, Lottie winked at Harry and pulled out her phone.

“But…why?” Harry finally managed to say.

“Hmm?” Lottie asked, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Why did he follow me?’

Lottie paused her typing and looked up with a soft smile. “Oh, Harry. Don’t you know?”

Her soft tone indicated Harry should know what was going on, but he absolutely didn’t.

“Know what?” he asked.

Lottie stared at him for a long moment, then shrugged. “I guess it’s not for me to say.”

Harry was more confused than ever. “Okay?”

Lottie smiled reassuringly. “It’ll come to you, don’t worry—your project and this.”

“Thanks…I think?” Harry replied, still baffled.

Lottie flashed him a grin and pocketed her phone. She stood and turned to face the girls playing. “Time to go, I think,” she muttered under her breath before waving for the girls to follow her. As she turned towards the entrance of the park, Lottie turned to face Harry once more.

“Nice seeing you, Harry. Louis will be sorry he missed you.”

Then she turned to walk away, two little girls with matching ponytails bobbing along behind her.

Harry sat alone at the bench for a few moments longer. His mind was swimming with questions, and he still had no leads for his project. He looked out onto the now-empty swings and pictured a young Lottie and Louis posing together for the camera, smiles wide. He barely knew Lottie, but just the thought that she had saved that photo for years made him smile. That was the power of photography, he guessed; moments in time saved forever long after the people in them had changed.

*

All things considered, the way Harry’s life was going these days, he should not have been surprised to trudge to his locker the next day at school and see someone waiting for him. Amidst the swarm of students stopping to chat about the dance and going to their lockers, Harry could clearly see a familiar face staring anxiously into the crowd.

Harry knew the exact moment Louis saw him; his bright blue eyes landed on Harry’s face, and his anxious expression softened. His mouth curved into a small smile, and his shoulders relaxed. Louis looked down at his feet, and even at that distance, Harry could see how long his lashes were. Louis was dressed in a simple navy coat and jeans, with a gray beanie on his head to ward off the cold. But Harry was endeared at the sight of him.

When Harry approached Louis, he could see Louis was rocking on his heels waiting. The sleeves of his sweater had fallen down over his hands, which were holding the straps of his backpack. Harry had never described someone as huggable, but then he had never met Louis Tomlinson.

“Hey,” Harry murmured in greeting as he came to stand next to Louis. Up close, Louis looked a little tired, and Harry had the urge to take him home and wrap him in a warm blanket and cuddle him. Harry tried to get a grip as Louis responded.

“Hi, Harry. My sister said she saw you yesterday.”

Harry smiled at the memory and nodded. “She did, yeah.”

“Did she—what did she say? About me?” Louis asked, and he sounded nervous.

“Um…nothing,” Harry said, confused at Louis’ tone. “She was just telling me how you used to go the park together. Nice girl.”

Louis let out a long breath. “Good. I mean, yes she is. Nice.”

Harry smiled, despite his nerves. “Everything ok?”

Louis’ eyes flashed to Harry’s, and he smiled mysteriously. “I’m fine. Sorry to bother you.”

“It’s no bother,” Harry assured him. Then he didn’t know what to say. He blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

“So, going to the dance?”

Harry cringed internally, praying for the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Oh god. Louis raised his eyebrows and quirked a smile though.

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Me too. Should be fun, right?” Harry asked, cheeks flaming red. He desperately wished he had never been born.

“Sure. Although I wanted to ask someone, but I can’t,” Louis said, still smiling.

“Why not?” Harry frowned, unable to imagine anyone turning Louis down for the dance.

“They’re busy,” Louis replied, biting his lip. He looked down at the floor.

“Oh,” Harry said sympathetically. “Sorry.”

The smile Louis gave Harry was as enigmatic as one of Zayn’s. “That’s life.”

Harry felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle. But just then, the first bell rang. Students were filing into classrooms, and the hallway was nearly vacant. Harry met Louis’ eyes, wishing he could lift his spirits a little.

“Better get to class,” Louis sighed, rolling his eyes and smiling wryly. “See you later.”

“Sure,” Harry replied. “And Louis?”

Louis froze where he had turned to walk away, and looked over his shoulder.

“Things will work out for you soon, you’ll see.”

Louis grinned then, and he looked so young under the fluorescent lights. “Don’t stop believin’?” he asked, smile widening.

“Exactly,” Harry smiled back. “Hold on to that feeling.”

“I will,” Louis said, flashing Harry a smile in farewell. “Thanks.”

With that, Louis walked away towards his first class. Harry stood in the hallway a moment longer, trying to control the fond smile that was plastered to his face. It was a losing battle, but for once, Harry didn’t mind at all.

*

“Oh my god, Harry. Oh my GOD!” Perrie hissed across the lunch table later that day. If Harry had spent most of the morning humming Journey under his breath and smiling like a lunatic, who cared? But Perrie did, apparently, care.

“What?” Harry said, looking up from his soy burger and fries.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “First, you hung out with his sister, who said he would be sorry he missed you.”

“Yes?”

“And then you talked at the lockers today and went out of your way to make him smile? Even though you were nervous?”

Harry shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

Perrie sighed and looked at the ceiling. “It was. But oh my god, Harry.”

“What?” Harry asked, dipping a crinkle fry in ketchup.

“You have a _song_ with him now,” Perrie whisper-shouted across the table.

Harry rolled his eyes. “We do not have a song, Perrie. It’s just like…an inside joke. Or something.”

Perrie leveled him with a sharp stare. “Don’t kill my buzz, Harry. This is big.”

Harry grinned in spite of her warning glare. “What, like you don’t have a song with Niall?”

At the mention of Niall’s name, Perrie’s cheeks turned pink and she smiled at the table.

“That’s beside the point. And we’re just friends,” Perrie said primly.

“Uh huh. Whatever you say,” Harry said dubiously. “I bet it’s Guns ‘N Roses.”

Perrie snorted a laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Harry!”

“I’m just saying, I know he loves the classics.”

“So do you, sap,” Perrie countered back.

“Whatever,” Harry said, unable to stop his grin. “So what are the plans for the dance?”

Perrie’s eyes lit up as she explained hers and Niall’s plans so far. First, he would pick her up and take her to dinner; then they would go to the dance. Harry smiled as Perrie talked, genuinely glad for her. Just because Harry was alone all the time, didn’t mean Perrie had to be, too. As if reading his mind, Perrie returned to a recent conversation.

“Have you thought about asking anyone to the dance?”

Harry shook his head slowly. “You know I’m working then.”

Perrie shrugged. “Not the whole time, though. Isn’t there someone you’d like to take?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know there is. But he already said he had someone in mind to ask, only they’re busy that night.”

Perrie gave Harry a mysterious smile. “And who might that be?”

“He didn’t say. But that’s beside the point, which is, I will be working.”

“If you say so,” Perrie finally conceded.

“I do. Now,” Harry said, ready to change the subject. “Where is Niall taking you for dinner?”

Perrie narrowed her eyes and said, “I’m letting you change the subject because I love you.”

For the rest of lunch, the two chatted about the dance and upcoming end-of-term exams, which Harry was dreading. He was sitting with his back facing the popular table where Harry knew Louis sat, but more than once during lunch, Harry felt someone’s eyes on him. If he was honest with himself, Harry wished it was Louis. Only once did he sneak a look in that direction, when he was dumping his lunch tray in the trash. Harry was disappointed to see Louis was not among the crowd at that table. He had gotten worked up over nothing. Harry shook his head and followed Perrie out to the halls and then to class. Seeing Louis once that morning would have to be enough. _That’s life,_ Louis had said that morning. Harry couldn’t agree more.

*

On the first day of December, Harry woke for school to find the whole world had been blanketed in white. There was always at least one big snow in Jackson every year. And it appeared this year, it had started before Christmas. Harry felt a surge of excitement and went to the local news app on his phone to see the school cancelations. Sure enough, in addition to several local businesses, Jackson High had canceled school that day.

Harry was fairly certain no matter how old he got, he would always be excited by snow days. He texted Perrie a simple “no school,” and went downstairs to start a fresh pot of coffee. From the kitchen window, Harry could see Anne’s backyard was covered in at least five inches of snow. No tracks had been made in it, except for a few bird footprints. While the coffee brewed, Harry went back to his room and grabbed his camera and his sketchbook. He slipped on his winter coat and slid open the back door to the yard. Harry took a few photos of the pristine snow he saw, marveling at the absolute silence around him. It was still early for the kids to be out playing, and all the usual sounds in the neighborhood were muted by the layer of snow. It was like a wonderland to Harry.

Perrie texted him to say she was walking over for breakfast, and Harry smiled. Snow days with his best friend were the best. He grabbed another mug for Perrie’s coffee and foraged in the cabinets for pancake mix. Might as well go all out.

Harry had a plate of fresh pancakes ready and was making more still when Perrie knocked on the door fifteen minutes later. She was bundled up in a coat, scarf, and matching beanie on her head. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and there were snowflakes on the top of her hat from where new snow had started falling. Harry grinned and let her inside, helping her with her coat. Perrie kicked off her snow boots and padded to the kitchen, where a stack of pancakes waited for them.

“Good walk over here?” Harry asked, following Perrie into the kitchen.

Perrie flashed him a grin and nodded. “It’s beautiful out there. Want to go outside later?”

“Definitely,” Harry agreed with a smile. “Thought I’d take some pictures around town.”

They piled plates up with pancakes and syrup, and Harry poured their coffee into large mugs. Perrie took a bite of pancake and sighed happily.

“I love snow days,” she said dreamily.

“Me too,” Harry replied, feeling grateful for the break from school.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then a text notification dinged on Harry’s phone. He frowned; the only person who usually texted him was sitting across from him, smothering another stack of pancakes in syrup. Harry pulled out his phone and opened the message.

 _Do you want to build a snowman?_ It simply read.

 _Who is this?_ Harry typed back with a small smile. Just then, a similar sound came from Perrie’s phone.

Harry’s suspicions were confirmed when Perrie grinned down at her phone, and a message came through on his own.

_LOL it’s Niall. Want to meet in the park?_

_Sure,_ Harry typed back, and he found he was actually excited.

 _Awesome. We’re meeting at 10:00,_ Niall replied.

 _Who’s going?_ Harry couldn’t resist asking. Niall’s answer came immediately.

_Everyone._

Perrie must have been having a similar conversation with Niall, because after a moment she looked up with an excited smile.

“Better eat up, then,” she said to Harry. “We’re going to need our energy today!”

Harry took a thoughtful sip of his coffee. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a snow day.

*

After the dishes were done and Harry was dressed in warm layers and snow boots, he grabbed his camera bag and met Perrie downstairs to walk to the park. The sun was shining through a thick layer of clouds that promised more snow, and Harry felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. As they crunched through fresh snow on the sidewalks, Harry realized he needed a break—even if it was just one day.

The park in Jackson was small, as Harry well knew, but it featured a steep hill on the other side of the playground that was perfect for sledding down. As he and Perrie approached the park, they heard voices on the hill. Harry snapped a photo of the playground blanketed in snow, and walked towards the voices.

Niall saw them first. He was actually building a snowman with Zayn, and Harry grinned as he took a quick picture of them.

“Harry and Perrie! About time!” Niall exclaimed with a grin, opening his arms in welcome.

“Hey!” They greeted Niall in unison. The snow was deeper on the hill, and it came up to Harry’s calves as he waded through it. When they reached Niall and Zayn, Harry took in the scene up close. There was Zayn, who had traded his leather jacket for a grey pea coat and gloves; Niall was bundled up in several layers of outerwear and currently rolling a snowball to make the head of their snowman. Down the hill, Harry saw some of their classmates throwing snowballs and handfuls of snow at each other. A sled sat forgotten at the base of the hill.

“So guys,” Niall said with a grin, then he sang: “Do you want to build a snowman?”

“It doesn’t have to be a snowman,” Perrie sang back. Niall’s smile widened and he offered her a high five.

“Oh great, don’t encourage him,” Zayn lamented. “I’ve been living in the _Frozen_ soundtrack all morning.”

Harry chuckled and pulled a pair of gloves out of his coat pocket. He set his camera bag down as he slipped the gloves on his freezing fingers.

“That song’s gonna be stuck in my head all day,” Harry admitted with a grin.

“It’s a good song,” Perrie suggested, smiling at Niall. It was hard to tell if she was blushing or if her cheeks were pink from the cold. Harry exchanged an amused glance with Zayn.

“The others should be here any minute,” Niall explained, adding more snow to his snowball.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Who else is coming?”

Niall hummed in thought for a moment. “Everyone from the Journal, I guess.”

Harry shrugged and nodded. The more, the merrier, he figured.

“Are you taking pictures today?” Zayn asked, nodding towards Harry’s camera.

“Probably,” Harry said with a smile. “Couldn’t resist.”

The four worked together for a few minutes then building Niall’s snowman. Harry was freezing, but he felt at peace somehow. It was nice every once in a while to remember they were still kids really. Harry felt a pang to his heart when he realized there may not be many more times like this until graduation.

“Any luck on the big project?” Niall asked Harry after a few moments of silence.

Harry shrugged and bit his lip. “Kind of. I have a theme in mind, but I don’t know where to go with it.”

“What’s the theme?” Zayn asked, looking up from his work adding to the base of the snowman.

“It’s um. The story of my life,” Harry admitted a little shyly.

“That’s cool,” Niall mused. “So is it gonna be about you?”

Harry sighed. “That’s the thing—I’d rather it be about other people. I’d feel weird just submitting photos of myself.”

“Hmm,” Zayn began. “Well, we could help you.”

Harry looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”

Niall grinned easily. “Of course, Harry. Why not?”

“See? Perrie murmured under her breath beside Harry. “People want to help.”

Harry quirked a smile. “You sure you guys wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Zayn smiled. “We’re in. And I’m sure the rest of the Journal would help out.”

“For sure,” Niall agreed. “We’ll get you fixed up, man, don’t worry. When’s it due?”

“Um,” Harry began nervously. “End of the month.”

Niall looked up in surprise. “Wow! We better get working then!”

Harry let out a sigh of relief. “We can start this week if you want.”

“Start what?” a voice asked, and Harry heard footsteps approaching.

Harry looked up to see Liam trudging closer in a parka and ski pants.

“Liam!” Niall exclaimed. “Awesome!” Niall moved to the side to make room for Liam at the base of the snowman, and sat closer to Perrie in the process. She grinned and looked down at her hands, but didn’t comment.

“So what are we starting?” Liam asked, kneeling on the ground to help with the snowman.

“Harry’s photo project,” Niall answered. “It’s called ‘Story of my life.’”

Liam turned to face Harry with a smile. “That’s cool, man. How can we help?”

Harry felt thankful to his core for his friends’ willingness to work with him. “I guess, um,” Harry replied. “I’m looking for people to photograph.”

“And it’s about our life stories?” Liam asked, nodding along.

“That’s the idea,” Harry said a little nervously.

“Ok, I’m in,” Liam agreed on the spot. He met Harry’s surprised eyes and smiled. “And I’m sure the others will want to help too.”

Not for the first time that day, Harry was eternally grateful for his friends. “Thanks guys,” he mumbled, looking from face to face.

“Aww, hug it out,” Niall cooed, reaching his arms open towards Harry. Harry rolled his eyes but grinned as he accepted Niall’s hug. The next moment, he had a face full of snow. Harry blinked in surprise as Niall cackled next to him.

“Sorry, man, but I had to,” Niall admitted. “You should’ve seen your face!”

Harry coughed up a little snow, then narrowed his eyes at Niall. “Well, it’s on now.” Harry scooped up a handful of snow and chucked it at Niall’s face. Niall gasped and ducked at just the right moment, escaping the snowball. But Zayn wasn’t so lucky. The snowball hit him square in the side of the head.

Zayn looked up, jaw hanging open in surprise. “Hey, what did I do?!”

Niall laughed so hard, he fell back into the snow. Zayn shook his head and grabbed two handfuls of snow and launched them at Niall. When the snow hit him, Niall just laughed harder.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Niall gasped between laughs.

Harry wasn’t sure how it happened, but the next moment it was every man for himself as a snowball fight ensued. He reached for his camera without thinking and snapped a few photos as he dodged snowballs. He got one of Niall tackling Perrie into the snow and shoving a handful of snow down the back of her coat. There was one great shot of Liam heroically shielding Zayn from an attack of snow. With each photo that Harry snapped, he wished to capture this moment forever. He guessed his friends brought out his sappy side.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, the snowball fight had calmed down and everyone was sprawled out in the snow, panting and laughing. Harry had snow in places he didn’t enjoy, but he also had a camera full of memories. He was counting it a win.

“Harry, take my picture,” Niall panted nearby. “The story of my life is, I win at snowball fights.”

Everyone groaned in unison and someone threw a handful of snow in Niall’s direction. He just laughed.

“The story of my life is, I want hot chocolate,” Perrie sighed.

“Ooh, that sounds good,” Zayn said dreamily.

“And the story of my life is, I’ll be making the hot chocolate,” Harry quipped.

“Do you have any?” Liam asked hopefully.

“Yep,” Harry sighed, sitting up and straightening his hat. As he prepared to finally stand up, a text notification came from a nearby phone. Everyone reached into various pockets for their phones. After a moment, Liam announced it was his.

“Oh, it’s Louis,” he said with a smile. “Let’s see what he’s doing.”

At the mention of Louis’ name, Harry exchanged a panicked glance with Perrie. Was Louis coming to hang out, too?

“I told him we were headed to Harry’s for a while. Harry, do you mind if I give him your address?”

“Um. Sure,” Harry said, swallowing down his nerves. He rattled off his address to Liam, trying not to blush. Because oh god, Louis might be coming to his house.

“There,” Liam said, clicking the send button. “You guys want to stay a little longer, or go on to Harry’s?”

The general consensus was that everyone was freezing to death, and wanted a snack. So Harry packed up his camera and led the way to his house. Luckily, it wasn’t too far from the park. He let the group into the front entryway, where everyone peeled off their outer layers and snow boots.

“Make yourselves at home,” Harry called, heading to the kitchen. “Does anyone want cookies?”

Several people said yes, so Harry preheated the oven and went to the cabinets to get hot chocolate mix. He looked over his shoulder to find Perrie had led the group to the couch and people were now relaxing and watching TV. Harry smiled at the sight. He wasn’t used to seeing this many people in his house, and it felt a little weird, but it was a good weird. Harry pulled out a bag of mini marshmallows and got out several mugs. When that was done, Harry grabbed a bag of chocolate chips and the ingredients to make cookies.

Harry tuned in and out of the conversation in the living room as he worked. He didn’t hear the front door open or close, but he heard a distinct voice standing at the edge of the kitchen a few minutes later.

“Have they got you doing all the work, Curly?”

Harry’s head whipped around and his jaw dropped. It was Louis.

Louis smiled at Harry’s surprised expression and crossed his arms where he was leaning against the door frame. He had taken off his coat and boots, but kept his navy beanie on his head. He looked so soft and comfortable in simple sweats, Harry had to grip the countertop for support.

“Um. Yes. Hi,” Harry stammered. “I mean, um. Welcome. Come on in.”

Louis’ smile widened. “Can I help?” He gestured to the slightly messy kitchen where Harry was in the process of making cookies.

“Sure,” Harry said breathlessly. “I’m just putting the cookies on the sheet.”

Louis nodded and rolled up his sleeves. “Where do you want me?”

Harry choked a little and felt his cheeks blush. Louis was just asking an innocent question, not flirting with him for god’s sake.

“Um…want to scoop out the dough while I finish the hot chocolate?”

“Ok,” Louis said easily, walking up to the bowl of dough on the counter. He picked up a spoon and scooped out a lump of dough, and carefully dropped it on the cookie sheet. “Like this?” he asked.

Harry stepped closer and inspected Louis’ work. “Perfect,” he smiled.

Louis grinned but looked down at the bowl. “We’ll see how perfect they look when they’re cooked,” he quipped.

“You can do it,” Harry assured Louis. Then he went back to preparing the hot chocolate. There was a comfortable silence as they worked for a few moments, and then over the voices in the living room, Harry could hear Louis had started to hum. Harry had his back to Louis, so he couldn’t resist smiling when he recognized the song.

Louis was humming “Don’t Stop Believin’”. Harry was a little in love. He chanced a look over his shoulder, where Louis was finishing up the cookie sheet. He was standing in his socks, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, humming contently. He looked so at home in Harry’s kitchen. Harry wanted to photograph the moment and live in it.

In another of their alternate universes, Harry and Louis were making a snow day snack not for the Journal crew, but for their own kids. They had spent the morning playing outside, and now the kids were camped out in the living room watching _Frozen_ while Harry and Louis made cookies. For some reason, they had tattoos. And on Louis’ currently bare ring finger, a platinum band glinted in the light from the kitchen. Harry sighed and smiled. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but it felt like home to him.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Louis murmured.

Harry turned in surprise to see Louis standing at the counter, leaning against it. The cookie sheet was covered in neat little balls of dough. But Louis. Louis stood with a hand on one hip, smiling bemusedly at Harry. Strands of caramel hair were sticking out from his beanie, and he looked so domestic Harry wanted to cry.

“Thanks. Um, looking good,” Harry replied nervously.

Louis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise and he grinned.

“I mean! Um, the cookies look good. I didn’t mean, um. Sorry,” Harry said, burying his flaming face in his hands. He could practically hear the smirk on Louis’ face from here. Harry didn’t hear the footsteps approaching him, but he felt two steady hand slowly cover his own. Harry peeked through his fingers to see Louis gently pulling Harry’s hands down from his blushing face. Louis’ smile was soft as he appraised Harry.

“You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed,” Louis whispered. He was close enough that Harry could feel his warm breath on his face. “But you don’t ever need to be. Not with me.”

Louis’ hands lingered another moment on Harry’s before they brushed away. Harry’s hands fell limp to his sides, and now they were standing face to face. Harry was fairly sure he was dying a slow, embarrassed, agonizingly in love death.

“Ok,” Harry whispered back, biting his lip. His eyes traveled from Louis’ down to his mouth, which was quirked in a soft smile. He looked back up at Louis’ eyes, and couldn’t look away. Louis blinked, and his eyelashes were so long Harry couldn’t breathe.

“So I was going to ask you,” Louis began, smile widening. Harry nodded for him to continue.

All of a sudden, a voice came from the kitchen door. “Hey, Harry, do you have—“

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm and he turned to the voice to see Niall standing there, looking surprised. He felt Louis take a subtle step back. Harry knew his cheeks were bright red, but he tried to sound normal as he answered.

“Yes? Have what?”

“Sorry,” Niall breathed, looking from Louis to Harry and back again. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, Niall,” Louis said smoothly. “What do you need?”

“Um. We were wondering if you have _The Notebook,_ Harry? Liam’s never seen it.”

Harry nodded, trying to clear his head. “Tell Perrie it’s in my DVD case on the shelf.”

“Thanks!” Niall smiled a little uncertainly. “Sorry again.”

Harry had never seen someone make such a quick exit as Niall did then. He watched Niall turn the corner and disappear, then turned slowly back to Louis. He found Louis to be standing with arms crossed, biting his lip in thought.

“You were saying?” Harry asked softly.

Louis smiled lopsidedly. “Oh, nothing. Never mind.”

Harry frowned a little. “Oh. Ok.”

Louis cleared his throat. “Um, did you want me to put the cookies in the oven now?”

The moment was clearly over. Harry felt disappointment settle in his stomach like a literal weight.

“Sure,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll finish the hot chocolate.”

Harry’s mind was swimming with questions as he turned back to his work. What was Louis going to say? He wanted to ask Harry something, but what? And what might have happened if Niall hadn’t come in at that exact moment?

Harry heard Louis open the oven and slide the cookie sheet in. He closed the oven door, then lingered a moment in Harry’s peripheral.

“So, _The Notebook?”_ Louis asked, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

Harry looked up and smiled. “One of my favorites,” he admitted.

“I might have seen it a few times with my sisters,” Louis confessed.

Harry nodded in understanding. He set a timer for the cookies, and then turned back to Louis. “Want to go watch it? Can you stay?”

Louis glanced at his phone screen, then looked up at Harry. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Harry smiled. “Go ahead, I’ll be right in.”

Louis nodded and smiled a half smile, then turned to walk away. “Thanks for helping,” Harry called out.

Louis’ smile softened as he replied. Then he turned the corner and joined the group in the living room.

Left alone in the kitchen, Harry sighed and hung his head. He had had a moment with Louis, and it could have been even more so, if it weren’t for the interruption. He could still feel the ghost of a touch on his cheeks where Louis had touched him. Harry shook his head and finished preparing the hot chocolate. Louis’ reply echoed in Harry’s head, and despite his usual pessimism, Harry felt a glimmer of hope. To Harry’s thank you, Louis had said one word, and that word would have to be enough for Harry to live on until he could ask Louis what he was going to say. That word was simple, yet hopeful at the same time.

_Anytime._

_*_

After the snow day, a four day school week seemed to fly by for Harry. On Tuesday, he had a progress update with Professor James about his work for the Christmas issue. He showed her the prints he had made so far of the decorating committee’s work, and the professor was pleased with the photos.

Also on Tuesday, Professor James announced to the Journal that they would be having a just-because celebration at Mary’s diner on Friday.

“It’s getting close to Christmas, and I just feel like having fun all of a sudden,” the professor explained.

“Count me in,” Niall quipped. The rest of the Journal voiced their enthusiasm.

“And of course, Louis, you’re always welcome to join us. You’re one of the team now,” Professor James added. She nodded to Louis, who was sitting with Liam.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Louis promised with a smile. “Thank you!”

Harry could feel Zayn’s eyes on him, and he tried valiantly not to blush. But the prospect of spending more time with Louis gave Harry butterflies in his stomach. Besides, they were friends. Friends hung out, right? Maybe most friends didn’t caress each other’s faces and stand quite as close as Harry and Louis did, but Harry liked to imagine their friendship was just different. Harry glanced at Zayn from the corner of his eye, and yep—Zayn was staring at him inquisitively.

As the professor gave the Journal the rest of the class time to work on their projects for the Christmas issue, Harry let out a long sigh and turned to face Zayn.

“Ok,” Harry said resignedly. “What’s that look for?”

Zayn quirked a small smile. “What look?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You know. That whole ‘I’m mysterious yet can read your mind’ look.”

Zayn chuckled. “Hey, my face just looks like that.”

“Right,” Harry said. “So what were you thinking about?”

Zayn shrugged. “I was just thinking, if you still wanted our help this week with your photos? I’ve been wondering what picture would really capture the story of my life.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “That’s great, Zayn! I was afraid you guys would forget or maybe change your minds. So, what did you decide?”

“Well,” Zayn mused, “there’s this old piano in my parent’s house. It was my grandfather Malik’s. And me and my sister used to have to take piano lessons when we were younger.”

“Ok,” Harry said, encouraging Zayn to continue.

“The instructor would try to teach us duets, so we’d sit side by side on the creaky old piano bench and practice playing together. We don’t play much anymore, but the piano’s still there. I was thinking you could get a photo of both of us like, recreating that scene, only older.”

Harry was stunned. “Zayn…that’s the best idea ever. Seriously. And it fits the theme perfectly. Would your sister mind?”

“Nah, I think she’d love it. As long as you could give my mom one of the prints to keep.”

“Of course,” Harry promised, feeling hope stir in his chest finally. “I think once again, you’ve saved the day.”

Zayn grinned. “I do have ideas from time to time.”

“Thank you, Zayn. Really,” Harry smiled.

“No problem,” Zayn said easily. “Now, speaking of photos,” he said, his smile turning into a smirk. “Have you worked with Louis yet on the Journal project?”

Harry bit his lip, and this time there was no way to stop from blushing. “I, um. Kind of.”

Zayn looked at Harry expectantly. “Ok?”

“I mean,” Harry said, feeling flustered, “he came by the darkroom and we, um. Talked about the process. Rolled a reel of film. You know, basic stuff. Why do you ask?”

Zayn stifled a laugh. “Because he’s been looking at you for five minutes now.”

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm, and he slowly turned towards where Liam and Louis were sitting. Harry met Louis’ eyes, and offered a small smile. Louis’ answering smile was a little lopsided, but Harry was endeared.

“Kinda looks like,” Zayn murmured, leaning closer to Harry, “he wants to roll a reel of film with you again soon.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he turned back to face Zayn, who was clearly gloating.

“Zayn,” Harry hissed. “It’s not like that. Oh my god.”

“Do you want it to be?” Zayn asked, subtly looking in Louis’ direction.

“That’s beside the point,” Harry muttered. “Stop staring at him!”

Zayn shrugged and focused his gaze back on Harry. “Whatever you say.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “High school might actually kill me.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Zayn offered. “Look on the bright side.”

Harry frowned and met Zayn’s eyes, which were sparkling with mirth.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s the bright side?”

“I’m 100% sure he likes you, too,” Zayn whispered, winking at Harry.

Harry buried his face in his hands to hide his giddy smile. “Zayn,” he warned through his hands.

“Seriously, though. He’s giving me the death stare right now.”

Harry dropped his hands and stared at Zayn. “So am I.”

Zayn actually cackled this time. As he threw his head back and laughed, Harry thought it was a little unfair that someone could be as good looking as Zayn in high school. But Harry was starting to suspect that there was a lot more to Zayn than meets the eye.

The bell rang, ending their conversation until next time. Harry sighed in relief, and tried subtly to glance at Louis across the room. When they made eye contact, a jolt of electricity ran through Harry. Louis bit his lip, appearing to be deep in thought as he looked from Harry to Zayn and back again. He offered Harry a small wave in farewell, and then turned to follow Liam out the door without a word.

That stung a little, Harry had to admit. After their talk yesterday, and the moment they shared, Harry expected something more, somehow. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. As he gathered his bag and said goodbye to Zayn, Harry wondered for the hundredth time why high school had to be so complicated. He finally had a lead for his senior project, thanks to Zayn, but he had never felt more lost in his life.

*

“Wow, why the long face, babe?” Perrie asked when Harry slumped down into a chair at their lunch table that day.

Harry didn’t feel like replaying the scene from the Journal meeting that day, but maybe it was better to just get it out.

“Do you ever wish you lived in another universe?” Harry replied by way of greeting.

Perrie hummed in thought for a moment. “Sure. Like every day in AP Bio.”

Harry grinned in spite of his mood. “Fair enough.”

“Would this idea about different universes have anything to do with your love life?” Perrie asked slyly.

“Or lack thereof,” Harry sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Perrie took a sip of diet soda, then made a face. “How can anyone drink this?” she murmured to herself. She set the can down and returned her focus to Harry.

“Did you talk to Louis yet?” she asked.

“No,” Harry said, staring down at his lunch tray. “And now I have this weird vibe. I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Perrie mused. “Maybe he’s waiting to see where you’ll go from here.”

Harry groaned. “But I don’t _know_ where to go from here.”

Perrie nodded sympathetically. “Who ever does?”

“At least I have an idea for my project now. Zayn had a great idea, and I can’t wait to do it.”

Perrie grinned. “That’s great! See, I told you it would all come together.”

Harry smiled. “We’ll see.” He was about to ask how Perrie’s day was going, but suddenly he got a text notification. He frowned and picked up his phone. It was an unknown number.

_Want to come over this afternoon?_

Harry stared down at his phone confusedly. Three months ago, he knew of approximately two people who had his cell phone number, and one of them was his mother. Now he was getting texts from random people all the time. Before Harry could ask who was texting him, though, another message came through.

_It’s Zayn, btw._

Harry nodded in understanding. That made sense. He still had no idea how Zayn got his number, but Harry replied back.

_Sure, what time? Address?_

A few moments later, Zayn wrote back with his address and a meeting time. Harry felt a weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that he had a concrete idea for his project and his first subject. He pocketed his phone and offered Perrie a tentative smile.

“So, Perrie,” he asked, ready to set up a second photo idea. “What’s the story of your life?”

*

Working with Zayn and his younger sister Waliyha that afternoon was a great start to Harry’s project. The heirloom piano was arranged in the Malik’s sunroom, where late afternoon light filtered in through sheer white curtains. It was a beautiful piano, and the setup of the room lent itself to great photos.

Harry arranged Zayn and his sister side by side on the piano bench, with a book of piano classics opened on the stand. He had instructed them to sit like they used to sit during lessons.

“You don’t actually have to play anything,” Harry explained. “I just need to get some shots of your hands on the keys together.”

Zayn and Waliyha could remember only one duet, “Heart and Soul,” which they played together haltingly until it came back to them. In a matter of minutes, they were playing in sync while Harry lined up shot after shot of them. He tried to photograph them from every possible angle as the music played. Within an hour, Harry had used up a roll of film and felt confident he had gotten some good shots, as well as candids of the two joking around at the piano.

As Harry was packing up, he couldn’t help but thank them again and again. If the rest of his friends had ideas like Zayn, his project might actually succeed. Harry buttoned up his coat for the walk home, as the sun was sinking in the sky. It had been a good day, mostly; he had a solid start to his project, and still had the rest of the week to work on it with his friends. Harry wondered if Louis would volunteer to work with Harry. If Louis’ distant behavior was anything to go by though, he shouldn’t count on it. Harry said goodbye to Zayn and his sister and walked out into the darkening afternoon, feeling somehow older. “Nobody said it was easy,” he had written in an old sketchbook once, to quote Coldplay, and Harry had a feeling this applied to high school especially.

*

The text came just as Harry was crawling into bed that night. After the photo shoot with Zayn, Harry had come home and completed some homework he had been neglecting. Then he decided to call it an early night. Harry had no idea who would be texting him this time of night. He squinted down at his phone screen in the dark, surprised to see it was Niall.

_Still want to know the story of my life?_

Harry smiled and typed back an excited “yes!” and then snuggled under the covers of his bed. Niall’s response came moments later.

 _Meet me after school tomorrow,_ Niall wrote. He gave Harry a time and place to meet. Harry typed back an affirmative reply and then set his phone on the nightstand. Time for bed. Harry stared out the window, where Jackson was well past dark and most lights were out. It was so quiet, Harry felt a little uneasy. He realized that this time next year, he would most likely be living in a dorm room, which was sure to be noisy. All he had to do was get into art school. If he could just get there, Harry believed everything would fall into place.

Harry stared restlessly at the ceiling, thinking about everything that happened the past few days. He couldn’t believe that just yesterday, his house was full of people and laughter, and now it was quiet again. Not to mention, yesterday he had been standing in the kitchen with Louis, on the verge of…something. He wasn’t sure what.

In one of their alternate universes, Niall hadn’t interrupted his and Louis’ conversation. Harry went back to that moment in his mind. He had covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, and Louis had closed the distance between them. Harry replayed the moment with his eyes closed. First, Louis had curved his smaller hands around Harry’s. Then, he had spoken.

_You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed…but you don’t ever need to be. Not with me._

_Ok,_ Harry had breathed, amazed this was actually happening.

 _So I was going to ask you,_ Louis continued, and Harry held his breath. This time, there were no interruptions.

 _Would you like to go to the dance with me?_ Louis asked, a soft smile on his face.

Harry felt himself nodding yes before he could even form words.

_I’d love to._

_Good,_ Louis whispered, taking a step even closer. _Because I’d love to dance with you._

 _What will everyone say?_ Harry asked, mesmerized by Louis’ blue eyes.

 _Who cares?_ Louis replied. _All I care about is what you think._

 _I think I’d like that,_ Harry admitted, ducking his head. He suddenly felt too shy to meet Louis’ eyes. In the brief silence that followed, Harry felt one of Louis’ hands slowly cup his chin, lifting his head back up. Now, Harry looked Louis in the eye.

 _That’s better,_ Louis whispered. He curved his hand around to Harry’s cheek, and his thumb delicately stroked the soft skin there.

 _I see you, remember?_ Louis asked, and Harry recalled their conversation on the soccer field.

 _I remember,_ Harry whispered back. He felt little shocks of electricity where Louis’ fingers were touching his skin.

 _I want to feel you, too,_ Louis confessed, smiling a little shyly now. All Harry could do was nod.

Louis leaned closer, and his lips softly brushed Harry’s other cheek. He pulled back a fraction and stared into Harry’s eyes. Harry blinked slowly, and nodded for Louis to continue. Louis placed another kiss on Harry’s forehead, bringing the hand that cupped Harry’s cheek up to run through Harry’s curls. His fingers stroked through Harry’s hair so delicately, Harry shivered.

 _Been wanting to do that for a while,_ Louis whispered. _Been wanting to do this, too._

Louis pressed his lips to Harry’s, and Harry saw stars. It was a simple brush of lips, but Harry felt electrified. Louis’ lips were soft and warm and so, so gentle. Harry didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he gasped softly.

 _Breathe, sweetheart_ , Louis coaxed, pulling back a fraction. He met Harry’s hazy eyes and blinked his long lashes. Harry focused on Louis’ eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath. When he let it out, Louis nodded in approval.

This time, when Louis’ lips brushed Harry’s, they lingered. Harry felt it all the way to his toes. Everything was so slow and gentle, and Louis was just. Louis was unbelievable. He pulled back for a moment, then placed a sweet peck on Harry’s lips again.

 _Okay?_ He asked, searching Harry’s face for discomfort. There was none.

 _Perfect,_ Harry replied, still feeling dazed. He stared at Louis’ lips, imagining them trailing kisses down his neck. Imagining his hands mapping out the shape of Harry’s body slowly, until Harry was a writhing mess.

Louis stared into Harry’s eyes like he was reading his mind. He smiled a secret smile and brought his hand down to lace his fingers with Harry’s. Standing there in Harry’s kitchen, in their sweats and socks, Harry had never felt more cherished. When the cookies and hot chocolate were ready, Harry and Louis carried them into the living room holding hands.

Here in his own universe, Harry sighed. He stared around his dark bedroom, slowly reentering reality. He could’ve sworn he felt a tingle on his lips from that kiss. Harry glanced at his clock and groaned. He had to get some sleep. As he drifted off minutes later, Harry vowed to talk to Louis tomorrow. It was the only way to move forward.

*

What do you wear to school when you’re confronting your crush? Harry had no idea. As early morning sunlight streaked through his window, Harry stood in front of his bedroom mirror feeling hopeless. He took in the shape of his green eyes, and the slight shadows underneath from a restless night’s sleep. There was his same curly, brown hair, the same pale skin. Same lanky body that was still growing. Harry stared down at the black sweater and jeans he had chosen, making an effort for once in what he wore to school. If Perrie was here, she would know what to do. But Harry shrugged, laced up his black Converse, and grabbed his bag for school. It would have to do.

All the way to school, Harry imagined what he would say to Louis. He was fairly sure he would die of curiosity if he never found out what Louis was about to say that day in Harry’s kitchen. So he tried to rehearse what to say. So far he had, “Hi, Louis. Do you have a minute?” Harry hung his head in defeat; was that the best he could do?

The usual swarm of students filled the halls of Jackson High as Harry entered the building. He was used to walking with his head down, avoiding eye contact. Today, however, he scanned each face he passed looking for a familiar pair of blue eyes. Harry made it to his locker without any success though. All around him, his classmates were chatting excitedly about the dance and Christmas, and Harry just couldn’t seem to get in the spirit. He pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Perrie, and then he grabbed his books for his morning classes.

_Why does it feel like Monday again?_

He looked one more time around the halls for Louis, and not seeing him anywhere, Harry trudged up the stairs to photography class. He grabbed his usual seat, but Perrie’s seat was still empty. Harry frowned; maybe she was out sick? The bell rang, and Harry opened his notebook to a fresh page, ready to take notes. Professor Swift spent most of the class time lecturing on the finer points of making prints from negatives, as a review for the final exam. Harry took detailed notes so that Perrie could copy them later.

After class, Harry stayed to talk to Professor Swift. As his classmates filed out of the room, Harry approached the professor’s desk. He appeared to be finishing his cup of coffee as he perused the morning paper. The professor looked up over his glasses and smiled at Harry.

“Good morning, Harry. I was hoping to speak with you soon,” he said in greeting.

Harry smiled and nodded. “I wanted to talk to you, too.”

The professor gestured for Harry to pull up a chair. “So, Harry. How are things going?”

“Better,” Harry confessed. “Good, actually.”

The professor smiled and nodded. “And the senior project?”

Harry found he was excited to talk about his work so far. “It’s going well I think. I did one shoot yesterday, and I have another today. Once I decided on a theme, it kind of fell into place. I couldn’t have done it without my friends,” Harry admitted.

Professor Swift smiled knowingly. “I had a feeling they would want to help you.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe they all volunteered!” Harry replied.

“I can,” the professor said. “So are you still planning to meet the deadline for the scholarship committee?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. “I think I can do it.”

The professor nodded encouragingly. “I know you can.” He took one last sip of coffee, and then rose from his desk. “Just do your best, like you always do. And remember, the committee is looking for heart and life in your photos. In photography, as in life, we have to let people in, Harry. Don’t hold back, and I’m sure you’ll do amazing work.”

Harry nodded, a little overwhelmed. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t let you down.”

“You never do,” the professor smiled warmly. “Good luck, Harry.”

Harry took that as his cue to leave, so he gathered his things and stood. He said goodbye to the professor and headed back downstairs to his next class. Thank goodness it was Professor James and the journal crew. As Harry rounded the corner, he nearly collided with another body.

“Oh! Sorry,” Harry breathed, taking a step back.

“Harry?” a familiar voice inquired.

Harry’s eyes snapped up to the person’s face, only to see Louis standing there, watching Harry with wide eyes.

“Hi,” Harry said, and then he froze. He was going to ask Louis something, but his mind had gone blank.

Louis smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Harry saw to his surprise that Louis looked as tired and nervous as Harry felt staring into the mirror that morning.

“Are you ok?” Harry asked tentatively.

Louis’ smile softened. “Um, sure. I’m fine, thanks.”

Harry frowned slightly, but nodded. “Okay.”

“It’s just, um,” Louis continued with a sigh, “the colleges I’m looking at are expecting a response by the end of the month. And I’m stressed.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “You have to decide all that now?”

“Pretty much,” Louis said, looking down at his feet. “So no pressure,” he laughed weakly.

Harry had to physically take a step back to resist pulling Louis in for a hug. He wanted to tuck Louis into bed and let him sleep for a week, unbothered by colleges and deadlines.

“Wow,” Harry replied sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Louis.”

Louis’ eyes rose to meet Harry’s, and they looked a little brighter now. “Not your fault. But thanks.”

“Any school would be lucky to have you,” Harry continued. “Is there one you’re leaning towards?”

“Yeah,” Louis answered hesitantly. “But I don’t know…it’s just a big commitment, you know?”

“Right,” Harry said. “But you’ll end up where you’re supposed to be.”

Louis bit his lip. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Harry said, smiling.

“Hey, I was going to ask you—“ Louis began, but the ringing of the bell cut him off. Louis groaned and rolled his eyes. “Shit, I’ve got to get to class. Sorry, Harry.”

“What were you going to say?” Harry frowned slightly.

“Oh, nothing,” Louis said, not quite meeting Harry’s eyes. “Never mind. I’ll see you later,” Louis said, flashing Harry a smile. He waved a quick goodbye, then walked around the corner out of sight.

What the hell?

Harry stood there another moment, trying to process everything that just happened. Louis had his own deadlines approaching, and was feeling the pressure. Louis wanted to ask Harry something, but they had been interrupted again. Harry was just as confused as he had been standing in his kitchen the other day, watching Louis walk away.

Harry shook his head and walked towards the journalism classroom. High school might actually kill him.

*

By the end of the day, Harry had almost forgotten about meeting up with Niall. He put a new roll of film in his camera and buttoned his coat to head towards the place Niall claimed held the story of his life.

All things considered, he shouldn’t have been surprised that it was Mary’s diner.

A rush of warm air and the scent of frying burgers met Harry as he walked into the diner. He found Niall sitting at a corner booth near the jukebox, a plate of food in front of him. Harry smiled and went to the counter to order a milkshake of his own, then he joined Niall at the table.

“Hey, Harry!” Niall said around a mouthful of crinkle fries. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for doing this,” Harry replied with a smile. “How’s the food?”

“Oh my god. Delicious,” Niall answered. “As you can see, this is part of the story of my life.” Niall gestured to the plate of food in front of him, and towards the jukebox where Elvis was singing “Hound Dog.”

“It’s a good story,” Harry smiled.

“Want to hear the rest of it?” Niall asked. Harry nodded enthusiastically as he opened his camera bag.

“So when I was little, before my parents split, we used to come here together. My mom didn’t like the food much, but my dad loved it. They would give me a quarter to play a song on the jukebox, and I would always pick “Under the Boardwalk.” Great song. Anyway, after my parents divorced, I would see my dad on weekends. And he would always bring me here,” Niall said, taking a sip of his chocolate shake.

Harry nodded for Niall to continue as he lined up a test shot of Niall under the fluorescent lights of the diner. He adjusted his camera settings for the lighting, and took another test shot.

“So it became like a tradition for my dad and me,” Niall continued. “After we ate, I would beg him for another quarter to play a song, or for some ice cream—anything just to stay a little longer. I didn’t want my time with him to be up, you know?”

Niall paused to dip a fry in ketchup and take a bite. “Jesus, these fries. You want some?” he asked, offering his plate to Harry. Harry smiled and took a fry off Niall’s plate as he continued.

“Anyway,” Niall concluded, “I remember one day I was particularly stubborn. I just did not want to leave and go back to my mom’s. And dad hugged me and said, he was always saying things like this, ‘Son, we have all the time in the world. But there’s never a bad time to tell people how you feel about them.’ That was my dad for you; every time I saw him, he told me he loved me. Every single time. He died a year later—killed by a drunk driver—and I was crushed. We were supposed to have all the time in the world, you know? Anyway, from then on, I was nine years old, I decided to always tell people I loved them when I had the chance. Life is short, you know?”

Harry slowly set his camera aside, jaw hanging open. He was in shock; who would’ve thought that happy-go-lucky Niall had had such a hard childhood? Yet he didn’t dwell on it. Harry felt tears sting his eyes.

“Niall…” Harry began, an apology on the tip of his tongue. But Niall held up a hand, signaling for Harry to wait.

“I don’t tell you all that so you’ll feel sorry for me,” Niall explained. “I just like to remind people sometimes that life is short. So it’s important to tell people how you feel.” Niall smiled serenely and took a big bite of his bacon cheeseburger. He grinned with his mouth full at Harry, and Harry mechanically snapped a photo of the moment. It seemed fitting.

“That reminds me,” Niall said, sliding out of the booth. “I always play a song for my dad when I come here.” He pulled a quarter out of his pocket and clicked through the songs until he landed on the one he wanted. Then he sat back down across from Harry, a thoughtful smile on his face. As “Piano Man” by Billy Joel filled the diner, Niall raised his milkshake in cheers to Harry. Harry smiled back and clinked his glass against Niall’s, his words echoing in Harry’s mind. _Tell people how you feel…life is short._ Harry realized with a start that senior year was half over. Soon, they would all go their separate ways, and he was going to say goodbye to all his new friends…and Louis. He might never see Louis again. But Niall’s story had inspired Harry. He decided then and there to add one more deadline to his list: by Christmas, he would tell Louis how he felt about him. He had twenty-two days to say “I love you.”

*

To Harry’s dismay, the Snow Ball loomed closer every passing day. While Perrie chatted on about color schemes and makeup, Harry dreaded the day of the dance. He was looking forward to taking pictures, of course, but one school dance had been enough for Harry. Anne had washed and ironed Harry’s dress clothes, and they hung on the back of his bedroom door like an omen. Maybe Harry was being a bit dramatic, but it might actually be the end of the world.

In the meantime, Harry tried to stay busy. He spent a freezing afternoon with Liam delivering Christmas baskets for Jackson’s less fortunate, something Liam did every year around Christmas. As student body president, Liam organized a food and toy drive at school, and then delivered them to those in need. Harry had gotten some amazing shots of Liam handing out the baskets, and a few photos of the looks on the children’s faces when they realized they were going to get a present that Christmas.

Harry spent more and more time in the school darkroom, developing the prints for his senior project. Zayn, Niall and Liam’s photos turned out well, for the most part. Harry still had to decide which ones to submit to the scholarship committee, but he had a lot to go on.

He spent the rest of his free time researching the best art schools for photographers. Harry knew he would have to leave Jackson for college, but he never imagined he might go as far as New York or California. But Harry printed out applications to as many schools as he could find, hoping at least one would pan out.

It seemed like Harry had blinked, and suddenly it was time for the school dance. Where had all the time gone? Harry spent the day of the dance listening to calming music and trying to concentrate on other things, but eventually even he had to admit it was time. Perrie and Niall were meeting for dinner before the dance, and they had invited Harry to join, but he felt awkward imagining that date. So Harry ate leftover spaghetti with Anne for dinner, and then changed into his dress clothes. The only good thing about the night so far was Anne had volunteered to drive Harry to the school so he didn’t have to walk in the freezing December air.

Harry sent Perrie a text, a simple _Good luck! See you at the dance,_ and slid on his coat. He packed up his camera and a few rolls of film, and then took a deep breath. It was just a dance, right? What was the worst that could happen?

*

The only pop songs Harry knew came out in the 70s and 80s, so he wasn’t surprised to walk into the Jackson High gym and hear an unfamiliar song playing. Niall and the decorating committee had gone all out for the dance, though. Silver balloons covered the ceiling, and a disco ball sparkled in the middle. Every available surface was draped in streamers and silver glitter, making the gym look like a winter wonderland. Silver and white confetti covered the floor. Along one wall, they had set up tables for punch and snacks (probably at Niall’s insistence), and several students were milling around with punch glasses. A DJ was set up on the opposite wall, playing upbeat songs that several people were singing along to. It was early, so only a few people were actually dancing in the middle of the floor. Harry stopped in the doorway and took a picture of the transformed gym. Then he had no excuse to keep hovering, and had to actually go in to the dance.

Harry saw a few professors standing around the edges of the room, probably as chaperones. Professor James was there, dressed in a simple black dress and her trademark glasses. Most of the students were dressed up like Harry; the guys had chosen button-up shirts and slacks, and a few had on suit jackets. The girls mingled around in an array of bright colors and sequins. Harry scanned the room for Perrie and Niall, but they hadn’t arrived yet. Most of the students were question marks to Harry; he didn’t know everyone’s names. So far, no one had come over to talk to him, but Harry had a feeling that would change when the camera came out.

Harry wandered over to the snack table for something to do, and grabbed a glass of punch. No one had spiked it with alcohol, but the night was young. Harry took a sip and surveyed the room. Most people were just standing in groups talking. Harry recognized Jade and Ed across the room chatting with Professor James. The DJ switched to a slower song, and the couples dancing stepped closer to one another and slow danced a little awkwardly.

He had the urge to sit down and just watch people, but Harry had a job to do. He sighed and finished his punch, then unzipped his camera bag. He carefully pulled out his camera, checked that it was loaded with film, and then lined up a test shot to adjust to the dim lighting of the gym. A voice startled him suddenly, and Harry lowered his camera with wide eyes.

“It’s Harry, right?”

Harry turned towards the voice, and saw one of the boys from the soccer team standing there with his arm around a girl.

“Yeah, hi. What’s up?” Harry asked, surveying the couple. They were matching in black and silver.

“My girlfriend was wondering if you’d take our picture. It’s our six month anniversary this week,” the guy, whose name escaped Harry, replied.

“Okay, no problem,” Harry said. He motioned for the couple to stand together near a banner that read ‘Welcome to the Snow Ball’. When they stood beside it, arms around each other, Harry nodded.

“Good. Smile!”

Harry snapped a picture, and lowered the camera. “Happy anniversary! Maybe it will be in the paper next week.”

“Thanks, man,” the boy said, and the girl waved in farewell. Then they walked away, and Harry realized he was standing there alone, looking awkward.

“That was nice,” another voice said, and Harry turned when he recognized the voice. Louis was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, with a smile on his face. Harry took a moment to process the sight of Louis in dress clothes. Objectively, he knew Louis was handsome. But somehow, even in his daydreams, he didn’t picture Louis dressed up.

Louis was dressed in a bluish-gray button up, with sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and simple black pants. His hair was casually swept to the side, looking soft, and Harry had the urge to run his fingers through it. Louis quirked a smile, blue eyes electric in the shimmering lights of the gym.

“Um. Hi,” Harry replied, after a very long silence. “I mean, thanks. It was nothing.”

Louis stepped away from the wall and approached Harry with his hands in his pockets. “It was something to them. Having fun so far?”

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled. “Tons. You?”

Louis’ smile turned into a smirk. “So far, yes.”

Harry didn’t know what to say after that. Louis was smiling at him like he was in on a secret, and it made Harry a little nervous. He blurted out the first thing he could think of.

“Who’d you come with?”

Louis gestured off to the side, where Liam had entered the room and was chatting with some friends. “We came stag. What about you?”

Harry nodded, blushing a little at himself for asking. “Same.”

“There wasn’t anyone you wanted to go with?” Louis asked.

Harry bit his lip. There was no sense in lying. “Yeah,” he began tentatively. “But it didn’t work out.”

“Hmm,” Louis mused, taking a step closer. “I don’t see why. Anyone would have fun with you.”

Harry smiled self-consciously at the floor. “Oh, um. Thank you,” he murmured. Louis’ feet entered his field of vision, and Harry realized if he looked up, they would be standing face to face. Slowly, Harry raised his face and met Louis’ eyes.

“Guess I better let you get back to work,” Louis said with a private smile. “Wouldn’t want the professor to come after you.”

Harry grinned. “Right. She’s terrifying.”

“Mhm,” Louis said, eyes skimming down Harry’s face to his lips. “Downright evil.” Louis raised his eyes to meet Harry’s once more. “By the way, Liam’s having an after party. Will you come?”

“Sure,” Harry breathed before he could even think. “I mean. Ok.”

Louis grinned and took a step back. “Have fun, Harry. I’ll see you later.” Harry could only wave weakly as Louis walked away.

Harry stood there for a moment, lost in his thoughts. Who knows how long he might’ve stayed there, had a hand not grabbed Harry’s arm and jarred him out of it.

“Harry!”

Harry whipped around to see Perrie standing there with hands on her hips. She looked lovely in a long, white sparkly gown with her long hair down in loose curls. But the expression on her face was so urgent, it was comical.

“Perrie,” Harry replied calmly.

“Were you just talking to Louis? What did he say?” she hissed under her breath.

“He said…hi. And that Liam was having a party after this. He asked me to go.”

Perrie’s expression transformed to a knowing smile. “Harry, that’s great! And you said?”

“Sure.”

Perrie rolled her eyes. “Don’t get too excited there. Wow.”

“Where’s Niall?” Harry asked, desperate to change the subject.

Perrie looked over her shoulder, to where Niall was standing with Liam and Louis. “He’s here. And yes, dinner was great. He brought me this,” Perrie said, raising her left hand to reveal a white rose corsage. Now, where were we?”

“The party?” Harry sighed.

“Yes. The party which you are definitely going to,” Perrie replied. “Right?”

“Right.”

“Good. We’re going too. It’ll be fun, don’t worry.”

“We’ll see,” Harry shrugged, but he was smiling.

Perrie grinned back at him. “I’m happy for you, Harry.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry replied with a faux innocent smile. “But I’m happy for you, too. Niall’s a good one.”

Perrie blushed under the twinkling gym lights. “Yeah. I think so.”

Harry pulled her into a brief hug. “Have fun. I’ll be around.”

Perrie hugged him back, then stepped back with a smile. “Thanks, H.” She wiggled her fingers in a small wave and then went to join Niall. Harry smiled at the sight the pair made. So far, this dance was already much better than his last. He pulled out his phone to check the time. Only three more hours to go; Harry hoped the time flew by. He had a party to get to.

*

Two glasses of punch later, word had gotten out that Harry was taking pictures. In between songs that Harry couldn’t identify, groups and couples would approach him with requests. Usually, Harry might have felt awkward talking to so many people he didn’t know, but tonight it helped to pass the time. So far, Harry had met most of the soccer team and their dates, as well as some shy students like Harry that were just curious. He talked for several minutes with a soft-spoken sophomore named Emilie about photography, and Harry found he was having a nice time. Occasionally, Niall or Liam would amble over to chat for a while, and see how Harry’s evening was going. He spent a few minutes talking to Professor James about classic music versus whatever the DJ was currently playing. The professor offered to lend Harry some of her old records of her favorite artists, and Harry was blown away. Overall, the night was going well.

Harry kept an eye on Perrie whenever he had a free moment, reasoning with himself that he was just making sure she was having a good time. It was just habit for Harry to look out for his friend, though. Even with an amazing date like Niall, Perrie was still like Harry’s sister he never had. And he intended to look out for her.

Also on Harry’s radar was Louis. He couldn’t help it; it’s like his eyes were drawn to Louis like a magnet. There was something in the way he worked the room, like his presence on the soccer field. Louis was confident and graceful, and judging by the conversation and laughter he inspired, also very fun. Harry tried to be subtle, but he must not have been successful. A couple hours into the dance, Zayn strolled up beside Harry with a bemused smile.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Harry said in greeting.

Zayn shrugged. “Figured I might as well stop by. How’s it going?”

Harry turned to face Zayn fully, and was taken aback. Zayn always looked like a model, but tonight, dressed in all black with his hair artfully slicked back, he looked like he belonged on a runway. Harry met Zayn’s expression with wide eyes.

“Wow. I mean, good, thanks. You look nice.”

Zayn smiled. “So do you. No date?”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor. “Um. Nope.”

Zayn stared across the crowded dance floor to spot Liam and Louis chatting with Professor James. “Seems to be a lot of that going around.”

Harry followed Zayn’s line of sight and blushed. “I guess so.”

“So have you told him yet?” Zayn asked, focusing his laser-like attention back on Harry.

Harry considered playing dumb for a moment, then realized it was futile. He sighed. “No. I don’t know what to say.” Harry cut his eyes across the room, where Louis was talking and gesturing with his hands. The crowd around him was grinning as he told a story. Harry looked reluctantly back at Zayn.

“Hmm. What would you say if you could say anything and know he would still like you back?” Zayn asked.

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I guess, um. That he makes me feel brave, even when I’m not. That he makes me want to take chances. That I just want to see him happy and loved, even if it’s not by me.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I think you’re onto something, Harry. That’s beautiful.”

Harry grinned ruefully. “And I’ll never be able to say it.”

Zayn smiled enigmatically. “Nah, I think you will. When the time comes, you’ll know. Just follow your heart, man.”

Harry felt tears swim in his eyes at Zayn’s words. He discreetly wiped his eyes. “Wow. You’re really good at this, Zayn.”

Zayn shrugged. “I read a lot of books.”

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” Harry asked, grateful to change the subject.

“Um… _Persuasion,_ by Jane Austen. I love that pining, desperate love thing,” Zayn said, staring across the dance floor. Harry turned to follow his gaze and found Liam, oddly enough. Well that was interesting.

“What’s it about?”

“This couple gets separated and spend years apart, still crazy in love. It’s about whether or not their hearts can reunite and forgive the past,” Zayn continued, never breaking his gaze from Liam.

“That’s really sad. Does it ever work out?” Harry asked.

“Read it and see,” Zayn said with a secret smile. He patted Harry on the shoulder, and then he was gone.

Left alone, Harry pondered what he had just witnessed. Zayn and Liam? Secretly in love? Well, why not? Harry imagined Liam’s upbeat, light-hearted personality would balance out Zayn’s tendency for brooding. Stranger things had happened, Harry realized, thinking about the night and day difference between Louis and himself.

Speaking of Louis, he was ambling Harry’s way with his hands in his pockets and a lopsided smile on his face. When he reached Harry, his smile spread to a grin.

“I requested a song for you,” Louis said, nodding toward the DJ stand.

“Really?” Harry asked. No one had ever played a song for him before.

“Yep.”

“What is it?”

Louis just shrugged evasively and stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry, staring out across the dance floor. He was standing close enough that Harry could feel his body heat. Just then, familiar notes filled the air, and Harry grinned. A few students cheered and kept dancing. Perrie caught Harry’s eye, and her jaw was hanging open as she looked from Harry to Louis and back again.

 _I knew it!_ She mouthed across the room. Niall grinned and pulled her into his arms to dance.

“Don’t Stop Believin’” played through the gym speakers, and Harry tried to control his grin. He glanced briefly at Louis’ profile, and found him to be smiling as he stared out at the crowd. Harry turned back to face his dancing classmates, but he bumped his shoulder gently against Louis’. Louis bumped him back. Finally, Louis spoke.

“See, everything’s going to work out for you, Curly. Journey says so.”

Harry giggled, and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Well, if Journey says it, then it’s true.”

“Exactly.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment longer while the song played. Then Louis continued.

“So, you’ve done everyone else’s life story. Would you like to hear mine?”

Harry turned to face Louis, amazement written on his face. “Really?”

“Of course,” Louis said as he turned to face Harry. “Only if you want to.”

“I want to,” Harry breathed, nodding.

Louis smiled. “Find me at Liam’s party, then. Bring your camera.”

Harry nodded once. “Deal.”

Over the speakers, the song—their song—was ending. Louis glanced once at Harry, then took a step away. “I’ll see you later then, Harry.”

“See you,” Harry echoed with a shy smile. He could’ve sworn Louis winked in farewell. Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Obviously, he was happy to add Louis’ story to his project. But the prospect of spending time alone with Louis made hope tingle through Harry’s body. Around him, the dance was winding down. His classmates were hugging their goodbyes and taking final selfies. Harry took a few more photos for the Journal, then packed up his camera. He made his way over to Perrie and Niall to beg a ride to Liam’s. His mind was a continuous loop of _Louis Louis Louis,_ but Harry tried to hold it together. He thought back to Zayn’s words from earlier, and realized his time to tell Louis everything might be sooner than he thought—might be tonight, even. Harry just had to have the guts to say it.

*

By the time Harry, Niall and Perrie arrived at Liam’s and hung up their coats, the party was underway. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if Liam’s parents were ever actually home. His classmates were sipping what Harry suspected was spiked punch from red solo cups, and music was thumping through the house. Most of the girls had kicked off their heels, and the guys had loosened their ties and cuffed up their shirt sleeves. While Niall led Perrie into the kitchen to make his specialty drink, Harry wandered the house with his camera, looking for something to do.

Harry didn’t feel like drinking tonight; he was eager to talk to Louis, and he needed steady hands to take pictures of whatever Louis had in mind. So instead, he wandered around, checking out Liam’s various rooms. He discovered that the guest room was already in use by a couple Harry recognized from the dance, and moved along. Past the guest bathroom was a bedroom at the end of the hall with the door ajar. Seeing no one inside, Harry ducked into the room. Maybe he could hide out in here for a few minutes until he found Louis.

It appeared to be Liam’s room; the bedroom was lined with shelves that held trophies and various awards of Liam’s time at Jackson. There were framed photos of a nice-looking family on the walls, at Christmas and at a beach and at birthday parties. Oddly enough, Marvel posters lined some of the walls. Harry had no idea Liam was a nerd, too. Harry didn’t touch anything, as he was a guest in the house, but he wandered over to the window that overlooked a tidy front yard. A voice interrupted his musings, though.

“Hiding out?”

Harry turned with a startled expression to find Louis standing in the doorway, holding a red solo cup. He opened his mouth to speak—wasn’t there something important he wanted to tell Louis?—but nothing came out. Louis smiled and took a step into the room.

“I had a feeling I’d find you around here somewhere,” Louis continued. “I know this isn’t really your scene, so thanks for coming.”

“It’s no problem,” Harry shrugged. “I think I’m getting used to it, actually.”

Louis grinned. “School dances, unchaperoned parties; look at you. You’re really going for it.”

“Might as well make the most of it,” Harry relied. “We won’t be seniors forever.”

Louis’ smile dimmed a little, and Harry instantly regretted bringing it up. Louis looked past Harry, out the window into the quiet Jackson night. “True,” he admitted. “Soon it’ll all be over.”

 _It doesn’t have to be,_ was on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but before he could get the words out, Louis continued.

“Which brings me to my life story, I guess. If you’re still up for it.”

Harry nodded quickly. “Absolutely. Got my camera and everything.”

Louis turned back to face Harry. “Good. Better grab your coat, though. We’ve got a bit of a walk.” With that, he turned and left the room.

Harry was a little confused, but followed Louis out the room and down the stairs. Louis could’ve said they were jumping off a bridge, though, and Harry would’ve gone. So there was that.

Harry took a moment to say goodbye to Perrie and Niall, who wiggled his eyebrows and told him to have fun. Harry rolled his eyes and hugged them goodbye. He grabbed his coat and stepped onto the front porch, where Louis was waiting. His coat was buttoned up to his neck, and his breath came out in little puffs of white in the freezing air. He was holding a soccer ball.

“Ready?” Louis asked, when he spotted Harry out of the corner of his eye.

“Ready,” Harry replied, buttoning up his own coat. Louis nodded and gestured for Harry to go first, so Harry stepped down onto the sidewalk. Louis strolled up next to him, and together they walked toward the street. Harry had a feeling he knew where they were going, but he wasn’t familiar with Liam’s neighborhood, so he let Louis lead them.

“When the weather was nice, I used to come over to Liam’s and we’d walk to the soccer field together,” Louis commented. “Didn’t matter if it was day or night; when things got crazy at home, Liam would go with me and we’d just kick a ball for an hour or so.”

Harry nodded, listening as they walked.

“Sometimes, I’d just go to his house and hang out. I just wanted to be around a normal family for once, have some peace and quiet. And Liam never asked questions, just let me in.”

They rounded a corner, and the school came into sight. The lights were now out, after the dance, but as always, the lights on the soccer field were on. Louis led the way.

“Do you play? Have you ever?” Louis asked, holding up the soccer ball.

Harry laughed. “Nope. Only in gym class, when I couldn’t get out of it.”

Louis laughed along with him. “Gotcha. I was wondering, that’s all. Let’s go in.”

Harry followed Louis onto the soccer field, and Louis dropped the ball onto the grass. In his shiny dress shoes, Louis gently kicked the ball along as they walked, until the two reached the center of the field. Louis put a foot on top of the ball to stop it from rolling further. He put his hands on his hips, considering his next move.

“Hmm…could’ve planned this better,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Oh well.”

Louis turned to face Harry. “So this is where I learned to play, this field.”

Harry nodded for Louis to continue. He unzipped his camera bag and lined up a test shot to evaluate the lighting of the field. It was so bright, he didn’t need a flash. Harry lowered his camera, and Louis resumed speaking.

“My mom signed me up for lessons when I was five. She had just had Lottie, and I remember I complained because I wanted to stay home with her and the baby. But my mom insisted.”

Louis took his foot off the ball and rolled it between his feet slowly. He put his hands on his hips, and the stance reminded Harry of the first game of the season when Louis had called plays for the team. He had stood just like that.

“Here. I’m gonna kick it to you. Just aim for the middle of your foot when you kick. Go slow,” Louis instructed. He gently kicked the ball across the grass to Harry, who stopped it by placing one dress shoe on top of the ball.

“Good,” Louis encouraged. “Now, nice and easy. Kick it back.”

Harry bit his lip, feeling awkward. He took his foot off the ball, and then lined up to kick it. He hit the ball with the middle of his foot, like Louis instructed, and the ball rolled across the grass. It went in Louis’ general direction, and Harry couldn’t believe it. He remembered all the times he had tried this in gym class, and how many ways it had gone wrong.

“That’s good,” Louis said, flashing Harry a smile. “That’s the hardest part, the first kick. After that, it’s a piece of cake,” he grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes, but couldn’t stop his answering grin. “Sure.”

Louis laughed softly. “Well, maybe there’s a little more to it than that. Anyway, I went to my first practice, and hated it. I came home in tears, begging my mom not to send me back.”

Harry looked up in surprise. He had always imagined Louis was just born playing soccer. Louis met his eyes and nodded.

“It’s true. I was terrible at it. But my mom said I had signed up and made a commitment, and I had to stick to it, even if it was just one season. I was so mad at her,” Louis said with a fond smile. “And then she took me in the backyard with Lottie on her hip and asked me to teach her what I had learned. She had an old basketball, and we used that. So I tried to show her how the coach taught us to kick the ball. And when I messed up, she’d just say ‘try again’. We stayed out until the sun went down, just kicking the ball back and forth. And if I fell or messed up, she was so patient, you know?”

Louis dribbled the ball between his feet leisurely, and to Harry it looked easy. Louis was just that good.

“So she signed me up for private lessons, and after normal practice, I would stay late and work with a coach. She came to all my games and practices. She was there when I fell and broke my arm, and she was there when my team won a championship. I never knew my dad, so it was just us, but she always came. Even when she had the twins, and Lottie and I had to help around the house, she insisted I keep playing. I actually offered to quit so we could save money and I could be home more to help her. But she said no.”

Louis cleared his throat, and Harry was surprised to look up and see Louis’ eyes were glassy with tears. Without even thinking, he snapped a picture of that moment.

“She sat me down and told me that one day, I was going to leave this town and do something amazing. And if soccer was my way out, then I was going to be the best soccer player Jackson had ever seen. No one had ever believed in me like that, besides her, you know?”

Louis kicked the ball straight up and bounced it with his knee. His eyes were on the ball, but he kept talking. Harry was entranced.

“It was that simple. I promised her I would always do my best and never quit. And I haven’t.”

Louis dropped the ball and stopped it with his foot. “She taught me that; never give up.”

Harry was touched by Louis’ story. He knew what it was like to grow up without a dad, and he knew it was hard.

“What does she think about it now? Now that you have all these schools vying for you?” Harry asked.

Louis smiled down at the ball. “She’s, um. Pretty proud. Tells me not to worry so much,” he laughed quietly. “It’s hard though. I just want to make her proud with what I choose.”

“Sounds like she already is,” Harry ventured. Louis looked up, smiling softly.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Harry snapped a couple more pictures, simply fascinated. Here was Louis, star of the soccer team, dressed to the nines on a soccer field at midnight in winter. And here was Harry. For the moment, at least, they were together. And for Harry, that was everything.

“Anyway, that’s the story of my life,” Louis said with a shrug. “Next time you’ll have to tell me yours.”

“Mine?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Yeah, of course,” Louis replied with a grin. “I won’t take your picture unless you want me to, though.”

Harry grinned back, frozen to the bone but oddly warm. “I’d like that.”

“It’s a date,” Louis said, wiggling his eyebrows. He picked up the ball and dusted off his pants. “Want me to walk you home?”

Harry nodded before he could even formulate a reason to say no.

“C’mon,” Louis said, reaching out a hand to Harry.

Harry looked at Louis in alarm. Surely he didn’t mean…?

“For warmth,” Louis said with a shrug, but his eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Right. Warmth,” Harry replied, lacing his icy fingers with Louis’. “Sure.” Even though his fingers were nearly numb, Harry felt a jolt of electricity when Louis’ fingers curled around his own. Harry knew he was blushing, but couldn’t find it in himself to care. Together, they walked off the soccer field and into the quiet Jackson night. Louis squeezed his hand, and Harry squeezed back. In one of their alternate universes, Louis and Harry were walking back to the apartment they shared. It was a modest place, but full of quirky photographs of them graduating high school, going to college, and meeting one another’s families. It was small, but full of love. Harry sighed and smiled here in his own universe. Everything was changing, but maybe things were just beginning to fall together.

*


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

 

“It is more important to click with people than to click the shutter.”  
— Alfred Eisenstaedt

 

A few things in his life had rendered Harry speechless. Like the time his mother bought him his first Polaroid with instant film, or the time he won tickets to the Script concert on the radio for being caller number seven. Or the time he watched _Titanic_ for the very first time, silent tears streaking down his cheeks. Moments like this had left Harry simply speechless, but nothing quite compared to the moment when Louis asked for his phone number.

They had walked home from the soccer field together after Liam’s party, hands clasped as little clouds of breath puffed out of their mouths in the icy December air. They didn’t talk much, and that was fine with Harry. He had a lot to process from that day, and Louis seemed to understand he needed a few minutes’ peace. When they arrived at Harry’s doorstep, standing under the porchlight that Anne had left on for him, Harry turned to Louis to find him smiling fondly.

“What?” Harry had asked, a smile growing on his face.

Louis shrugged. “Nothing. Was just thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Harry asked, digging in his pocket for the door key. He glanced up to Louis’ face to see him biting his lip in contemplation.

“That I didn’t think it was possible to like you even more, but I do. And I’m so glad I knocked you out with that soccer ball when I did.”

Harry smiled shyly. “You’ve got good aim, I guess.”

“You guess? Really?” Louis laughed with wide eyes. “That was a one-in-a-million shot.”

“And a one-in-a-million concussion,” Harry quipped, but he couldn’t stop his answering smile.

“Aww, did I hurt you, Curly?” Louis asked quietly, taking a step closer.

“A little,” Harry admitted.

“I’m sorry. Your poor curls! Let me make it up to you,” Louis replied. He gently traced the shape of one of Harry’s wayward curls. The light touch sent shivers down Harry’s spine.

“How?” Harry asked.

“Hmm…it’ll be a surprise, I think.”

Harry’s eyebrows raised on their own accord. “Surprises make me nervous.”

Louis’ smile softened. “Then it’ll be a very chill surprise. And if you don’t like it, you can kick a ball at my head. How does that sound?”

Harry suspected he hadn’t stopped blushing since Louis took his hand and walked him home. “Umm. Sounds nice,” he murmured, a little hypnotized by Louis’ blue eyes.

“Good,” Louis whispered, gently unlacing his fingers from Harry’s. “Now, I’m gonna need your phone,” he said with a wink.

Harry nodded a little breathlessly, and took out his phone. He keyed in his password and handed it to Louis. While Louis clicked around, doing whatever it was he was doing, Harry glanced around the neighborhood. Everything was silent, and the lights were all out in the windows along the street. Even the streetlight had been turned off at this hour.

“Done,” Louis concluded with a smile, handing the phone back to Harry. “Now I better say goodnight. I have three nosy sisters and a mother who are probably waiting up to hear about the dance.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Harry asked with a smile.

“That I requested a song for the most beautiful guy there,” Louis said with an easy smile, eyes bright. “And I had the time of my life.”

Harry smiled down at his shoes. “So did I.”

Louis tilted Harry’s chin up with gentle fingers and smiled when Harry’s eyes finally met his. “Goodnight, Harry,” he whispered, and placed a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead. The light touch tingled on contact, and Harry’s jaw dropped.

“Good…goodnight, Lou,” he managed to utter. “See you Monday?”

Louis’ smile lit up the night. “I’ll be there.” It sounded like a promise. Louis waved, then turned to walk back into the icy Jackson night.

Harry opened the door as quietly as he could, and when Louis was out of sight, closed it. The house was dark, so Harry tiptoed upstairs and got ready for bed. He didn’t look at the clock. Harry was sliding into bed when a text notification lit up his phone screen. Harry frowned and squinted in the darkness. On his screen, under the new name Louis and a crescent moon emoji, there was a message.

_Btw, in case I didn’t tell you, you looked wonderful tonight._

Harry smiled in the darkness, and his heart felt warm.

_So did you,_ he typed back. _Thank you!_

Louis’ reply came a few moments later. _Just wanted to say goodnight. Sweet dreams._

_Sweet dreams, Louis,_ Harry replied. A glance at the time showed it was 3:30 a.m. Harry yawned and set his phone on the nightstand. He burrowed under the covers, exhausted, but his whole body was thrumming with electricity. He could blame being up all night, or the dance, but Harry suspected it was all Louis. He drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face, daydreaming about walking hand in hand with Louis into the school lunchroom, feeling both cherished and invincible at the same time.

*

The only reason Perrie didn’t lose her mind Monday morning was because Professor Swift had already started lecturing when Harry whispered a simple, “he texted me.” Then Harry opened his notebook to a fresh page, and began taking notes. He could feel Perrie’s eyes on him the entire time, and he was a little worried she was missing some vital lecture information for the final. At the end of class, the professor gave them a few minutes free time to work or talk. Harry reluctantly turned to face Perrie, and found her to be staring with eyes narrowed and her arms crossed.

“That,” she hissed, “was the longest pause in American history.”

Harry grinned and looked down at his desk. “Sorry…not sorry.”

“Oh my god, Harry!” she exclaimed. “Tell me everything.”

Harry turned to face Perrie and recounted what happened after he and Louis left Liam’s party. He didn’t go into detail about Louis’ life story, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but he did mention with a shy smile that Louis had held his hand and kissed him on the forehead. Perrie listened with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, until Harry had finished speaking. Then she blinked slowly, and a grin spread across her face. Her blue eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights of the classroom.

“Harry Styles,” she began with an excited whisper.

“Perrie Edwards,” Harry replied amusedly.

“This is so…I can’t even…how? HOW are you just sitting there like that? You love him, and he loves you back, and I’m going to explode out of this chair!”

Harry tried to cover his giggle with his hand, but Perrie saw.

“I knew it. I knew it!” she cried, pointing a finger at Harry. “Wait till I tell Niall,” she said, digging out her phone.

“Perrie!” Harry whisper-shouted. “Did you tell him?”

“Babe,” Perrie rolled her eyes, fingers flying on the keyboard. “I didn’t have to tell him; he guessed.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He frowned. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

Perrie paused her typing. “Oh, honey,” she said, smiling patiently. “No. It’s just, I’m really happy for you. Niall is, too. I couldn’t have planned this better myself.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Can’t believe you made me wear those skinny jeans.”

Perrie cackled out a laugh. “Say what you want,” she said, holding up a hand, “but that worked. Now look at you! Texting a boy! Staying out late! My baby is growing up!”

“We’re literally the same age, Perrie.”

“Whatever. Don’t try to kill my buzz.”

Harry sighed and subtly checked his phone. There was a new message.

_Good morning, sunshine,_ Louis had typed. Harry was officially in love.

“Is that him?” Perrie asked excitedly, looking at Harry’s phone. She read the message and gasped.

“Oh god, you two are going to kill me. What did you say back?” she asked.

Harry shrugged. He held out his phone, where he had texted back a simple, _Morning, handsome._

Perrie clapped her hands, bouncing a little in her seat. “Yessss!” she cried, offering Harry a high five. Harry grinned and clapped his hand against hers.

“We have to double date,” Perrie said with a hopeful smile. Before Harry could form a response, the bell rang. He sighed in relief and stood to go to his next class. Perrie was engrossed in texting someone, probably Niall, about a double date. Harry shook his head and smiled. He glanced at his phone, where Louis had texted back with the blushing smile emoji. If the rest of his Mondays were going to go like this, Harry might just survive senior year.

*

Harry hadn’t forgotten about his vow to tell Louis how he felt, but he also hadn’t forgotten about the deadline for his senior project. So after school, Harry rounded up all the rolls of film he had taken for his friends’ life stories and headed to the darkroom. He could get a good start on it tonight at least.

The photography lab was quiet after school, as most of Harry’s classmates were finished for the semester. He was grateful for the quiet as he dropped his bag on the ancient couch and pulled out the first roll of film. He had labeled it with a capital N in sharpie. So this was the roll he took of Niall.

Most of the photos on this roll captured the ambience of Mary’s diner, in addition to Niall. Harry was a little nervous, since this was such a big project. He was glad the lab was empty at least. Harry prepared the darkroom to process his negatives, and turned on some music. He chose an 80s playlist, and was pleasantly surprised when “Boys of Summer” came on. To Harry, it was the perfect mix of upbeat and wistful; a good match for Niall’s life story.

“I can see you, your brown skin shining in the sun,” Don Henley sang as Harry prepared the water and chemicals to bathe the film. Even though it was winter, it was easy for Harry to imagine a tanned, happy Louis in the summertime. The way the sun would shine on his hair, and how handsome he would look in classic aviators—Harry could picture it so clearly. He hummed along as the music played.

When Niall’s roll of negatives was processed and drying, Harry was surprised to see it was nearly 6:00. His stomach rumbled with hunger, and he regretted only eating half his sandwich at lunch. Harry shrugged and went back to work, though. He arranged his negatives into clear plastic sleeves for easy access. Then he cleaned up his work in the darkroom and wiped down the table. Back in the lab, Harry studied the negatives. Some of the photos of the diner turned out better than Harry imagined. But there was one of Niall that Harry loved. He suspected it was taken after Niall told his story, when Niall was chewing his food and grinning, a huge burger in one hand. He looked so young and carefree, as opposed to the story Harry now knew. The photo captured Niall’s youth and optimism perfectly. Harry took his negatives to the enlarger machine to begin making prints.

Harry’s phone was halfway through his 80s playlist, currently playing “Heart of Glass” when a text notification dinged. Harry thought about ignoring it, but on the off chance it was his mother, Harry stopped his work and inspected his phone. It was a message from Louis.

_What are you doing tonight?_

_Developing film,_ Harry responded. Louis’ reply came moments later.

_Can I help?_

Harry pondered this for a moment. On the one hand, seeing Louis would be a welcome break from his work. But on the other hand, Louis wasn’t trained in the lab. Harry wasn’t sure if he was even allowed back there. While Harry was thinking, another message came through.

_I’ll bring food._

_Deal,_ Harry typed back immediately. He was definitely in love.

_10 minutes,_ Louis concluded, and Harry smiled.

While he waited for Louis to arrive, Harry finished the print he was working on. He adjusted the light exposure of the machine, and beamed it down onto the negative. The light burned through onto the photo paper beneath it, creating an image. Harry was actually looking forward to showing Louis this part of the process. He got so wrapped up in his work, he didn’t hear the lab door open and close minutes later. But Harry stopped when he recognized a voice.

“How about a break, Curly?”

Harry grinned at the nickname and turned to see Louis, still in his coat and beanie, holding a bag of McDonald’s with a smile. Harry turned off the enlarger machine and nodded eagerly.

“You’re just in time,” Harry replied, walking towards Louis.

“Good,” Louis said with a relieved sigh. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Harry took the offered bag and led Louis to the couch to sit down. “It’s ok; I’m glad you’re here.”

Harry looked up in time to see Louis smile, cheeks tinged with pink—either from the cold or blushing, he didn’t know. But it set butterflies in motion in Harry’s stomach. They didn’t speak much as they ate dinner, but Harry managed to hear briefly about Louis’ day. Harry admitted his was pretty good, too, glossing over the part where Perrie asked for a double date. It may be a little early for that, Harry reasoned.

“So what are you working on?” Louis asked when they had finished eating.

“C’mon, I’ll show you,” Harry replied, gesturing for Louis to follow him. Harry led Louis further into the lab, where the enlarger machine stood. He briefly explained its function, and what Harry was currently working on. Louis looked around the lab curiously, having never seen this far before. When he turned back to face Harry, Louis smiled fondly.

“So this is your home away from home,” Louis guessed.

Harry nodded and smiled wryly. “Pretty much. Especially now that my deadline is so close. Want to help me finish this print?”

Louis nodded eagerly and took a tentative step closer. “Sure. What am I doing?”

“You’re enlarging the negative to full photo size,” Harry explained, guiding Louis’ hand to the machine. “Push this button, and the light will shine on it and create an image. Go ahead and push it.”

Louis bit his lip in concentration and pressed the button. Light flooded the small negative square, and Louis gasped. He abruptly pulled his finger off the button and stepped back. “Whoa! It’s like a giant microscope,” Louis said in awe.

Harry chuckled. “Kind of, yeah. Let me finish the light exposure and then we’ll move to the trays.”

Harry pressed the button until a steady stream of light hit the negative, and a faint image showed through on the photo paper. Louis murmured, “wow” under his breath as Harry worked. When it had received enough light, Harry carefully carried the print to a row of trays.

“You want to do the first one?” Harry asked.

Louis smiled nervously. “What do I do?”

Harry gestured to the first tray. “Carefully place it in the tray, and use the tongs to make sure it goes all the way under the solution.” He handed Louis a pair of rubber-ended tongs and stepped aside. Louis nodded and very carefully took the print from Harry and submerged it into the chemical solution. He pressed it down with the tongs, then looked up at Harry with a tentative smile.

“Like that?” he asked.

Harry nodded, feeling oddly proud. “Exactly like that. Good job.”

Louis smiled down at the tray, blushing a little. “What do we do now?”

“Now we wait,” Harry replied, pulling up a stool. “Each tray takes a certain amount of time.”

He gestured for Louis to sit down, and Louis set down the tongs and took a seat. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a timer Harry had set. Harry’s playlist had finished, and there was silence for a moment before it restarted from the beginning. When the timer chimed, Harry used the tongs to lift the print from the solution tray and slowly moved it to the next one. It was one of the simplest steps of the developing process to Harry. But he chanced a look at Louis to find him studying him intently.

“What?” Harry asked, a little self-consciously.

Louis smiled. “You’re really good at this. I mean, I knew that, but like, seeing you do it…it’s like…yeah.”

Harry was endeared to find Louis was blushing a little. “Thanks. I know what you mean; that’s how I always felt when I watched you play.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, smiling in surprise.

“I mean! Not that I was watching you,” Harry backpedaled. “I just mean, um…”

Louis grinned and slowly advanced towards Harry across the room. His blue eyes shined in the low light of the lab, and he was smiling faintly. Harry could feel himself blushing, and when Louis saw it, his smile turned predatory.

“Observe the elusive Harry in his natural habitat,” Louis narrated as if on the Discovery Channel. “See how he moves gracefully and precisely in his lab.” Louis strolled closer, grinning. “Stunning.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “See the elusive Harry blushing. Again.”

Louis’ smile softened, and his voice lowered to a whisper. Now he stood mere inches from Harry, and they saw eye to eye. “Now watch as he draws in his prey with hypnotizing eyes and pink cheeks.” He lifted one hand, and traced the shape of Harry’s warm cheek with gentle fingers.

Harry blinked slowly, mesmerized by Louis’ voice. Anticipation built inside him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off Louis.

“Gorgeous,” Louis whispered, stepping closer still.

“I smell like lab chemicals,” Harry said, ducking his head shyly.

Louis leaned closer, taking a delicate sniff of Harry’s curls. His lips brushed Harry’s ear as he whispered, “I like it.”

Harry was fairly sure no one liked the smell of photo chemicals, but he was going to go with it. He shivered at the sensation of Louis’ lips touching his skin. Louis gently tipped Harry’s chin up until they were seeing eye to eye again.

“That’s better,” Louis murmured. “Love your eyes.”

_I love you,_ Harry thought, blushing deeper. Louis brushed a kiss across one of Harry’s cheeks. Harry sucked in a breath of surprise, and forgot to let it out. Louis chuckled.

“I need you to breathe, sweetheart,” Louis whispered. Harry nodded, slowly letting his held breath out. Under Louis’ gaze, he took another slow breath and let it out.

“Good,” Louis praised, fingers trailing down to cup Harry’s chin. “May I kiss you, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly, eyes wide.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” Louis replied with a small smile.

“Yes,” Harry murmured, “um. You may. Please.”

Louis nodded in approval and leaned closer, until his breath was on Harry’s lips. Harry’s eyes fluttered closed, and he felt warm and so, so, cared for. He remembered Louis’ instruction and took a slow, steady breath.

The moment Harry felt Louis’ lips on his own, Harry melted. Everything was warm and soft and quiet, and Harry was loved. He knew that even before either had said it. It was in the way Louis’ soft lips brushed his and lingered; it was in the way his slender fingers carded through Harry’s hair, gently stroking his scalp. Harry faintly remembered he was supposed to be breathing, and let out a slow breath. He felt rather than saw Louis smile against his lips. Harry smiled back.

When Louis pulled back a fraction, Harry slowly opened his eyes. Louis’ eyes were on his, and so blue Harry forgot all rational thought.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” Louis murmured, fingers still stroking Harry’s hair soothingly. “Another?” he asked, eyes trailing down to Harry’s lips.

“Please,” Harry sighed. Louis smiled, and this time his lips lingered a little longer. All Harry could do was keep breathing as Louis kissed him slowly, like they had all the time in the world. Louis gently parted Harry’s lips with his own, molding them to fit Harry’s. The tip of Louis’ tongue traced Harry’s bottom lip, and his toes curled at the feeling. All he knew to do was breathe. Louis kissed him again, and this time Harry felt his tongue touch his own. The sensation sent a shock of electricity through Harry’s body. Tentatively, he stroked his tongue against Louis’, and Louis let out a soft moan. Their lips slid wetly now, and it felt like someone had turned up the heat in the lab. Louis’ mouth was still gentle, but he curled his hand into a fist in Harry’s hair, pulling a little in the process. The throb of electricity went straight to Harry’s cock. He gasped.

Louis pulled back a little, and brushed one more soft kiss against Harry’s lips. Every cell in Harry’s body protested the distance, and he groaned softly. His eyes fluttered open, and Harry saw that Louis’ blue eyes were dilated in the low light. His lips were slick from kissing, and he was panting for breath. To Harry, he looked like someone whose restraint was on the verge of snapping. His grip on Harry’s hair loosened, and he leaned back.

“God, Harry,” Louis whispered, still panting. “I can’t…you make me want to…”

“Yes,” Harry murmured, answering Louis’ unasked question.

Louis brushed a chaste kiss across Harry’s lips, then pulled back. “Not here,” he said patiently, rubbing a thumb across Harry’s bottom lip.

“But—“ Harry began to protest, and Louis shook his head.

“Nope. Our first time is not going to be at Jackson High School.”

Harry sighed, silently admitting it was a bad idea. “Fair enough.” He felt giddy just at the prospect of Louis’ words, _our first time._ It was more than Harry could’ve ever hoped for.

“I want you all to myself,” Louis explained softly. “Want to kiss every inch of you.” Louis trailed his hand down from Harry’s hair to his chest, leaving a trail of tingles. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” Harry replied raggedly, struggling to breathe.

“Me too,” Louis replied. He took a subtle step back, adjusting himself in his jeans. Harry was glad he wasn’t the only one affected here. “Now, where were we?”

Harry sighed and hung his head. Louis laughed quietly. “You look like your puppy died, rather than you’re stuck with a hard on.” Harry pouted at Louis in response.

“But I’ll make it up to you, soon,” Louis promised, dropping a soothing kiss on Harry’s forehead.

“I’m both turned on and frustrated,” Harry grumbled in defeat.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Louis assured him with a fond smile. “Now. Back to work.”

Harry gave Louis a withering look, but rose from his stool to go move the print to the next tray. “Yes, sir,” he sighed. At this rate, it would take him all night to finish these photos. As if reading his mind, Louis crossed his arms and smiled serenely.

“One thing at a time,” he replied, and Harry sensed a promise in his words. _I love you,_ Harry thought as he continued with his work. Now he just had to say it out loud.

*

One deadline that Harry had almost forgotten about was the due date for his photos for the Journal Christmas issue. He felt confident he had several good shots of the dance, so on Tuesday night, armed with an energy drink and a roll of film, Harry made his way to the photo lab. Overall, it had been a good day. He had woken to a simple text from Louis that set the day on the right track. His _Good morning, sunshine_ had left a bleary-eyed Harry smiling as he got ready for school. Every time he thought about Louis, he felt warm all over and smiled a dopey smile that Perrie had officially named his Louis smile. Harry still felt the tingle and thrill of Louis’ kiss the next day, and he suspected it would stay with him forever. A Louis kiss was not something Harry thought he would ever forget.

Alone in the photo lab that night, Harry was free to daydream. He would always have his alternate universes, but lately Harry was content to stay in his own. Louis had done that with a simple press of his lips. Harry had secretly hoped Louis would stop by the lab again that night, but he was babysitting his sisters while his mother was working a night shift. So Harry set up the darkroom and lab alone, letting his mind wander.

He smiled to himself at the memory of telling Perrie about his and Louis’ first kiss. He had been a little nervous, but seeing his best friend’s eyes brimming with tears at the news proved it was worth it. Speechless for once, Perrie had just thrown her arms around Harry and hugged him tight. When she finally let go, she wiped her eyes and the mascara streaking down her cheeks and simply said, “Don’t let him go, H.” Harry didn’t intend to.

Harry was content to sit on the old secondhand couch in the lab and doodle Louis’ name all night in his sketchbook, but he had work to do. So he clicked through his iTunes until he landed on Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits and got to work. In the darkroom, he deftly rolled his film around a metal reel and dropped it in the tumbler of solution, then set the timer. He sang along with the band while he waited, to the song “As Long as You Follow.” It was a mellow tune, but hopeful at the same time. Harry loved the lyrics, “now I know I can’t lose, as long as you follow; I’m gonna win, I’m gonna beg, steal or borrow.” He thought about Louis as he worked, about the bright smile on Louis’ face and his natural optimism. Harry wasn’t used to being optimistic, so he still felt like he was living in a dream. Louis could have anyone he wanted, anywhere, and somehow he had chosen Harry. Not only that, he seemed to feel as happy as Harry did whenever they were together.

When the timer went off, Harry carefully poured the solution in the tumbler down the sink. He finished the film bathing process, and then left the darkroom. He examined his negatives under the fluorescent lights of the lab. Harry couldn’t help but smile at each photo negative; they had turned out well. There were a few of Niall and the decorating committee preparing for the dance, as well as several at the dance itself. The photo requests he had gotten had even turned out decently, and Harry intended to make prints of those and give them to his classmates. Harry selected which negatives he wanted to develop into prints. He checked his phone for any new messages, and there was one. It was Louis. He had attached a photo of himself piled on the couch with the twins, all smiling into the camera. The message simply said, _Good luck on your photos from the Tomlinson family! xx_

Harry grinned at his phone and typed a reply, then took his negatives further into the lab to work at the enlarger machine. He had the sudden thought to one day have a darkroom at home so he could spend more time with his family. There was no guarantee that would be Louis, but Harry could dream. A house full of Louis and little Styles-Tomlinsons running around sounded just right to Harry. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, Harry admitted as he aligned the first negative under the enlarger, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

*

When Harry had finally finished his work at the lab and cleaned up, then walked home and got ready for bed, the clock had read 2 a.m. Harry groaned as he set his alarm for 6:30 to get ready for school.

He awoke just a few hours later to the blaring of an alarm, and squinted at his phone in the early morning light. There was no text from Louis, and Harry sighed. He was getting spoiled; he shouldn’t expect a text every morning. Louis had things to do, of course. Harry rubbed his eyes and crawled out of bed to go make coffee.

A freezing walk to school and a cup of coffee should have helped to wake Harry up, but he felt even grumpier when he walked into the halls of Jackson High. Was it just him, or were his classmates just a little too perky today? And so loud! Harry shook his head and trudged to his locker, utterly exhausted. Perrie was nowhere to be found, but Harry stopped short when he saw his locker door. Taped to the front of his otherwise plain locker was a beautiful sunflower. Harry looked around to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was otherwise preoccupied.

There was a tiny note wrapped around the flower stem, and Harry carefully peeled it off to read:

_Good morning, sunshine! I know you’re tired, but you’re doing great. Meet me after school?_

It wasn’t signed, but Harry knew Louis was behind this. He secretly loved that Louis called him sunshine, even when he was grumpy like this morning. Harry smiled softly and carefully pulled the sunflower off his locker. He carefully placed it inside on a shelf and grabbed his books, and then shot Louis a quick text.

_I wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for my surprise, it’s beautiful._

Louis’ reply came a few minutes later as Harry was settling down into Professor Swift’s class with his Louis smile on his face.

_So are you. See you after school xx_

Harry grinned down at his phone, and stifled a yawn. Now he just had to wait till the closing bell rang, and he would see what Louis had planned.

*

Harry stopped by the Journal classroom that morning between classes to check in with Professor James. He found her standing in the hallway chatting with another teacher, so Harry just walked into her classroom and waited for her to finish. A few moments later, the professor walked in.

“Good morning, Harry! How can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

“Morning,” Harry replied with a polite smile. “I just wanted to check in about the Journal photos.”

“Oh, wonderful!” the professor replied. “How’s it going?”

Harry pulled out the prints he had made so far and spread them on a nearby desk. Professor James walked closer to inspect them. She lingered over a photo of a large group of students making silly faces at the camera during the dance. The professor smiled.

“Harry, these are wonderful,” she exclaimed. “I can tell you’ve gone out of your comfort zone for these shots.”

Harry nodded shyly. “Kind of. But it was fun.”

Professor James smiled softly. “Sometimes stepping outside the box is rewarding. I’m proud of you, Harry.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry smiled.

“Did you get a chance to work with Mr. Tomlinson yet?” she asked.

Harry blushed at the memory of that night in the darkroom with Louis. “Um. I did, yeah. Yes.”

The professor smiled with eyebrows raised. “Good! I know he was excited to work with you. He’s got a lot on his plate, but he insisted.”

Harry’s head perked up at this. He knew Louis had a lot of important choices to make about college, on top of finals and his work at the Journal. But the thought of Louis insisting he make time for Harry made Harry feel warm inside. He didn’t know how it was possible to love Louis more today than yesterday, but here he was.

“That reminds me, Harry. If you see Louis later, tell him I’d like his editorial by Friday,” the professor concluded, gathering up Harry’s photos and handing them back in a neat stack.

“Sure, Professor,” Harry replied, making a mental note to tell Louis. He carefully bagged up his photos and said goodbye to the professor as he left. Harry wondered what Louis was writing his editorial about. He hadn’t asked.

The rest of the day passed slowly, and by the time the final bell rang, Harry was fighting to stay awake. But he was excited to see Louis. So Harry wove his way through the halls to his locker, where he found Louis waiting for him. Harry smiled as he approached him.

“Long day?” Louis guessed, leaning against Harry’s locker. He stepped aside for Harry to put his books away. Louis already had his coat on, backpack slung over one shoulder. Harry nodded as he stepped closer to open his locker.

“Kind of. This made my day, by the way,” Harry said, blushing as he carefully pulled out the flower. “Where did you even find a sunflower in winter?”

Louis grinned and shrugged mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

Harry rolled his eyes, grinning back. “Okay. Well, thank you—I love it.” He grabbed his bag, stifling another yawn.

Louis frowned. “How late were you here last night?”

“Um,” Harry said, closing his locker. “1:30-ish?”

“Harry!” Louis exclaimed, running a comforting hand across his back. “You’ve got to get some sleep.”

Harry smiled at the reassuring touch, guessing Louis had done it without even thinking their classmates might be watching. Harry turned to face Louis with a smile, looking closer. He was dismayed to find Louis had faint circles under his eyes. Had Louis been up all night, too? And still gone out of his way to surprise Harry this morning? Wow.

“Maybe I’ll go to bed early tonight,” Harry said. It was just a little fib, he reasoned.

As if reading his mind, Louis rolled his eyes. “Right. Well, it’s a good thing I planned this then. Want to go to my house?”

Harry perked up at that. He had never been to Louis’ house before. “Sure,” Harry replied.

Louis gestured for Harry to follow him to the door. “Sorry we have to walk; mom took the car to work.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said, used to walking everywhere himself. He almost missed Louis reaching out a hand beside him. Harry stared a moment, hardly believing Louis wanted to hold his hand at school. He smiled a private smile as he tentatively laced his fingers with Louis’.

Louis turned to smile at Harry. “There’s the smile I was looking for.”

They didn’t talk much as they walked to Louis’ house, but Harry was more than content to be walking hand in hand with Louis again. When they arrived at Louis’ house, Louis pulled out the front door key. He was about to open the door when it suddenly swung open. Lottie stood there with one hand on her hip and a broad smile.

“Well, well, well,” she began, staring down at Harry and Louis’ joined hands. “Hi, Harry.”

Harry didn’t know why he was blushing as he replied with a hello. Louis must have noticed, because he squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly.

“Hey, Lottie,” Louis greeted his sister. “Let us in; it’s freezing.”

Lottie stepped aside, letting the two enter the house. “I’ll be in my room,” she said, heading towards the stairs. “Mom’s bringing the girls home at 5:30.” Then Lottie winked at Harry and turned to go upstairs, leaving Harry and Louis standing alone in the living room.

“So, welcome to our home,” Louis said, gesturing around him. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Harry looked around him, and saw that the room was a little smaller than Anne’s, but it looked much more lived in. Toys sat piled in a corner, and a stack of Disney DVDs were perched on the TV stand. Photos lined the walls and were placed on every available surface. It was clearly a well-loved home.

“It’s really nice, Louis,” Harry replied with a warm smile. “Thanks for bringing me.”

Louis smiled a little shyly and led Harry towards the stairs. “Anytime. My room is this way,” he said. Harry followed him up the narrow staircase to a hall with several doors. Louis stopped in front of a door at one end. “This one’s mine,” he continued, opening the door.

Harry felt strangely nervous going into Louis’ room. Looking around, it was mostly what Harry expected, with one main difference. Aside from the numerous trophies and awards lining the walls, there were also several framed photos on the walls. One was of the soccer team, as Harry expected, but the rest were family photos. Harry stopped in front of one taken at a recent Christmas, which featured Louis and a woman who must’ve been his mother. They had their arms around each other, smiling brightly at the camera. Louis’ mother had the same bright blue eyes and caramel brown hair, and Harry smiled.

“Ah, that’s my mom,” Louis said, coming to stand beside Harry.

“She’s lovely, Louis,” Harry said, turning to face him. “You look really happy.”

Louis smiled at the photo. “We are, thanks. You can set your stuff down here,” he said, pointing to an empty chair. Harry said thanks and dropped his bag and coat on the chair. He saw Louis had kicked off his shoes, so Harry set his neatly under the chair.

“So, what did you want to do?” Harry asked, stretching his tired back.

Louis raised his eyebrows and smiled, and Harry realized Louis was a little nervous, too. “Actually, um,” Louis began, clapping his hands together once. “How do you feel about a nap?”

Harry smiled, pleasantly surprised. “Really? That sounds perfect.”

Louis’ smile was relieved. “I just thought, you know, we’ve been so busy lately. And then, of course, you’re welcome to stay for dinner. Unless you have plans,” Louis added.

“No plans,” Harry confirmed, glad for once he had no life. He watched Louis pull an extra quilt out of a closet and spread it open on his bed.

“I promise I’ll take you on a real date soon, someplace nice,” Louis said, smoothing out the quilt. “But let’s just rest for a while.”

“A nap date,” Harry mused with a smile. “I like it.”

“Big spoon or little spoon?” Louis asked, crawling on the bed under the quilt.

Harry blushed. “Um…I don’t know, actually.”

Louis’ expression softened. “Well, let’s find out. Come here.”

Harry followed Louis to the bed and slipped under the covers like Louis had. He lay his head on a soft pillow that smelled like Louis and turned to face Louis. He was smiling.

“Hello, beautiful,” Louis murmured. “I almost forgot,” he said, smiling down at Harry’s mouth. He leaned closer and placed a delicate kiss on Harry’s lips, lingering for a moment. Harry was taken by surprise, but quickly melted into the touch. Louis traced a hand down Harry’s shoulder to his hand, where he linked their fingers together gently. When he pulled back from Harry’s lips, Louis smiled. “Wanted to do that all day.”

“Me too,” Harry whispered, cheeks blushing pink. He shyly met Louis’ eyes to find them sparkling in the soft afternoon light.

“Turn around, ok? Trust me,” Louis said with a soft smile. “Want to cuddle you.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat, but he nodded and slowly turned onto his other side. He took a moment to get comfortable, and finally lay his head on the pillow with a sigh.

“There you go,” Louis encouraged. He curled up closer to Harry until his chest was pressed to Harry’s back, then draped an arm around Harry’s side. Harry felt Louis press a kiss to his hair.

“Shouldn’t I be the big spoon?” Harry yawned. “I’m bigger.”

“Ha,” Louis scoffed. “Not much.”

“I’m still growing,” Harry slurred with a grin. “And you’re little.”

“Excuse you,” Louis said, pinching Harry’s cheek, making Harry squirm. “Sassy,” he grumbled.

Harry buried his face into his pillow and grinned. “You like it.”

Louis sighed, stroking his fingers up and down Harry’s arm. “I do. Now rest, please.”

“Kay,” Harry said easily, snuggling deeper into the bed. His eyelids drooped from exhaustion. Laying under Louis’ quilt, in his bed, with Louis pressed against his back, Harry was surrounded by Louis. He relaxed even more, taking a deep breath and letting it out. He intended to stay awake and enjoy being cuddled by Louis, but sleep took him eventually. He felt Louis’ steady breath against his neck, and was lulled to sleep in minutes.

Afternoon light was slanting through the window when Harry blinked awake some time later. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so relaxed and rested. Harry took a moment to evaluate his situation. He had moved at some point, to where his face was now buried in Louis’ neck, an arm slung over Louis’ side. Their legs were tangled together under the quilt. Harry sighed, realizing he felt completely at home. He shifted an inch, closer to Louis, and then froze.

Oh god. Harry was hard.

Louis hadn’t woken up yet, and Harry took a deep breath. His first thought was to sneak out of the bed and out into the night. But just then, Harry heard the murmur of voices downstairs. He realized Louis’ mother must be home with his sisters. Harry’s face burned with embarrassment. Beside him, Louis stirred, then nuzzled his face into Harry’s hair. Soon, Louis would wake up, realize what was going on, and kick Harry out of his bed. Harry sighed and curled closer to Louis, not ready for this moment to be over.

“You shouldn’t be so tense after a nap,” Louis slurred quietly, eyes still closed. Harry almost had a heart attack.

Harry sighed. “I am relaxed; that’s the problem.” He buried his face in Louis’ neck, hiding.

Louis yawned beside him, shifting closer. “Problem? Wha—“ Louis began, and then he shifted just right, leg brushing Harry’s erection.

“Oh.”

Harry groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Sorry. I’ll just,” he began, untangling himself from Louis. But Louis’ hand clamped around Harry’s wrist.

“Stay,” Louis said softly, only relaxing his hold on Harry when Harry sank back against the bed. Slowly, Louis opened his eyes. He blinked in the fading light, looking from Harry’s flushed face down to his jeans, where Harry’s erection was getting a bit painful. And then, surprising Harry as he always did, Louis smiled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed, trailing a hand down Harry’s chest, brushing the tent in the front of his jeans. “You thought I’d be mad?”

Harry gasped at the sensation of Louis’ fingers delicately tracing his clothed cock. “I thought,” he said, struggling for breath, “I, um. I don’t know.”

Louis’ fingers traced back up Harry’s chest and up to his burning face. His slender hand cupped Harry’s cheek.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered to himself. “I mean, the timing isn’t the best,” he explained, gesturing to the sound of voices downstairs. “But I can’t let you meet my mother with this,” Louis grinned down at Harry’s pants. “So.”

Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek, and then trailed his lips down Harry’s neck. Harry sighed and let his head fall back, giving Louis better access. The sensation of his lips on Harry’s sensitive skin made Harry shiver. Louis sank his teeth into Harry’s neck, and Harry’s cock throbbed.

“Oh god,” Harry breathed, clenching a hand into a fist.

Louis’ hands came to rest at the waistline of Harry’s jeans. His lips moved up to Harry’s ear. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for me, ok baby?” Harry could only nod as Louis unbuttoned Harry’s jeans and let the zip down.

“Has anyone touched you like this before?” Louis asked, placing a soothing kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“No,” Harry replied breathlessly.

“Do you want me to?” Louis asked, stroking the front of Harry’s boxers gently.

“Yes,” Harry gasped, writing a little at the feeling.

“Are you going to be good for me?” Louis pressed, easing Harry’s jeans down his hips.

“ _Yes,”_ Harry groaned, lifting his hips for Louis. Louis silenced him with a warm kiss.

“Ok, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” Louis murmured against Harry’s lips. With steady hands, he inched down Harry’s jeans and boxers until his cock was free. Louis wasted no time; he curled his hand in a loose fist around the base of Harry’s cock and gave it an experimental stroke.

“God, Harry, look at you,” Louis breathed, taking in the size of Harry’s cock. “So pretty,” he continued, leisurely stroking him.

Harry tried to stay still, as he had promised to be good, but when Louis tightened his fist and twisted on an upstroke, Harry’s hips bucked.

“Lou,” he whined, throwing an arm up over his face.

“No, baby,” Louis said, slowly pulling Harry’s arm down to reveal his face. “Watch me.”

Harry shivered as Louis quickened his strokes, gathering the precome that had leaked from Harry’s tip and smoothing it down his cock. He blinked slowly as he watched Louis’ small hand working his cock, and tried to keep his orgasm at bay.

“Being so good for me,” Louis crooned softly, brushing a kiss across Harry’s lips. “Can I suck you off next time?”

Harry gasped and bucked his hips. “Y-yes,” he said raggedly. Despite his efforts, Harry could feel pleasure coiling in his stomach and knew he couldn’t hold it off.

“Lou. Gonna—please—“ he began, fumbling over his words.

Louis hummed in encouragement and stroked a thumb over Harry’s sensitive tip on the upstroke. “Gonna come for me, baby?” Louis whispered, pumping faster.

Harry sucked in a deep breath and held it. He squeezed his eyes shut, toes curling in pleasure. Almost there…

“Come, Harry,” Louis whispered in Harry’s ear, gently biting his earlobe. The sensation pushed Harry over the edge, and he buried his face in Louis’ neck as he came with a gasp. His cock throbbed out spurts of come onto Louis’ hand, and his hips arched off the bed. Louis stroked him through it, slower and slower, until Harry whined at the overstimulation and Louis’ hand stilled. Harry’s head thumped back on the pillow in exhaustion, and his eyes slid closed.

“Beautiful,” Louis mused, eyes scanning down Harry’s flushed face, down his chest, to his softening cock.

Harry’s eyes flickered open when he heard the zip of Louis’ jeans opening. He looked down to see Louis pull out his own hard cock, and Harry moaned. He reached out a tired hand and stroked the length of Louis. When he saw Louis was using Harry’s come to slick up his own cock, Harry gasped.

“So close already,” Louis murmured, stroking faster and faster. “Look what you do to me, Harry.”

Harry’s cock twitched at Louis’ words, and he moaned again. “Gonna come, Lou?”

Louis squeezed his eyes closed, nodding. “Y-yeah.”

“Uh-uh,” Harry corrected with a grin. “Look at me.”

Louis’ eyes snapped open, and they met Harry’s eyes. Louis bit his lip as he stroked himself. Tiny beads of sweat formed at his hairline, and Harry wanted to lick them. Wanted to lick Louis all over.

“Can I taste you, Lou?” Harry rasped, eyes fixed on Louis’ cock.

“Harry,” Louis groaned in warning, breath coming in pants now. He stroked faster now. Harry could see he was close, so he batted Louis’ hand away. Louis whined.

“Let me,” Harry whispered, gripping Louis’ cock tight and stroking him.

“Harry, please,” Louis said, his hips arching with each stroke.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Harry soothed, stroking faster the way Louis liked. He twisted his fist on the upstroke, the way Louis had done to him, and Louis gasped. Harry began to twist at Louis’ tip every time now, and Louis’ whole body began to shake.

“H-Harry,” he said, voice shaking.

Harry stroked him harder, and Louis’ eyes rolled back. “Come for me, Lou,” Harry urged.

A few more strokes, and Louis came with a soft cry of Harry’s name, cock shooting out ropes of come. Most of it landed on Harry’s hand, which slowed its pace gradually until he was just loosely holding Louis now. Louis trembled and gently collapsed against the bed, panting for breath. Harry slowly withdrew his hand and brought it to his lips, tasting Louis’ come.

“Oh god,” Louis whined, watching. Harry hummed in approval, cleaning off his fingers one by one neatly with his tongue.

“I like it,” Harry admitted with a shy smile.

“You’re going to kill me, Harry,” Louis groaned, burying his face in a pillow.

“Is it usually like this?” Harry asked, gesturing between them.

Louis smiled softly. “No, it’s not. It is with you, though.”

“Good?” Harry asked, blushing a little.

“Spectacular,” Louis corrected. He pressed a chaste kiss to Harry’s lips and smiled. “You taste like me.”

“You taste good,” Harry shrugged.

“Thank you,” Louis smiled shyly. “Now, I hate to say it,” he said, tucking his cock back into his jeans, “but now comes the hard part.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

Louis smiled wryly. “Dinner with my family.”

Harry grinned in relief, tucking himself back into his pants. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*

Dinner with the Tomlinsons was definitely different than anything Harry had experienced thus far. Coming from a quiet home with no brothers and sisters, being around Louis’ family was a little daunting. From the moment he and Louis traipsed down the stairs and were met with an armful of blond twins, Harry was in shock. Louis led an overwhelmed Harry into the kitchen to meet his mother, who was putting the finishing touches on dinner. When she turned and saw Louis and Harry, she broke out into a broad smile.

“And who might this be, Lou?” she asked with a wink in Harry’s direction.

Louis cleared his throat and placed a reassuring hand at the small of Harry’s back. “This is Harry. Harry, this is my mom, Johanna.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Harry said, offering a polite hand to shake.

Louis’ mother shook her head fondly and gathered Harry into a warm hug. “Call me Jay, dear,” she murmured into Harry’s ear. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

Harry blushed at this and shyly met her familiar blue eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Can we help with anything, mom?” Louis asked, gesturing to the messy kitchen.

Jay shooed them out, though. “No, no, you two go talk with the girls. I’m fine.”

Louis placed a kiss on Jay’s cheek and led Harry into the living room, where the twins were sitting on the couch watching a movie. Lottie was curled up in a recliner with her phone. When the twins saw Louis and Harry, they opened their arms for hugs.

“And I believe you remember Daisy and Phoebe,” Louis reminded Harry, hugging each girl.

Harry nodded, smiling at each girl. “Hello, again,” he said with a wave. The twins exchanged a sly glance and then burst into giggles.

“They think you’re cute,” Lottie said, never looking up from her phone. “Apparently, it runs in the family.”

Louis met Harry’s eyes and shrugged as if to say, “it’s true.” Then he sat down between the twins, making space for himself, tickling them in the process. “What are we watching? Oh, wait, let me guess— _Little Mermaid?_ Again?”

One of the twins nodded, already glued back to the TV screen. “Shh, it’s a good part.”

Harry turned to face the screen, where a distraught Ariel was meeting with Ursula the sea witch. Harry sat down on the other side of one of the twins and whispered, “I don’t trust her.” The twin, Phoebe, maybe, turned to Harry with wide blue eyes.

“Me neither. But Ariel has to do it.”

Harry nodded, admitting the gravity of the situation, then turned back to the TV. When Ursula started singing about poor, unfortunate souls, Phoebe buried her face in Harry’s arm, giggling. Harry wrapped an arm around her tiny shoulders and watched her with amusement. He hadn’t spent much time around little kids before, but so far he liked them. Louis caught his eye and smiled at the sight of Harry and Phoebe snuggled up together.

Just then, Phoebe tugged on Harry’s shirt sleeve to get his attention. “Harry,” she whispered. Harry turned back to face her, nodding for her to continue.

“I think my brother likes you,” she whispered, eyes dancing with mirth.

“Really?” Harry whispered back, smiling.

“Yeah,” Phoebe grinned.

“Good,” Harry replied, feigning relief. “Because guess what?”

“What?” Phoebe asked with round eyes.

“I like him, too,” Harry whispered, like a secret. He winked at Phoebe, and she collapsed against him in giggles.

“Somebody’s not watching the movie,” Louis teased, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry and Phoebe. “What are you talking about?”

Harry bit back a grin and shrugged. “Can’t tell; it’s a secret.”

“Ooh, secrets!” Daisy said from Louis’ other side. “Tell me!”

Harry mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key. The twins giggled. Louis smiled fondly.

“Dinner!” Jay called from the kitchen, and Louis grabbed the remote to pause the movie. The twins scrambled up and towards the kitchen table.

“I’m sitting by Harry!” One of the girls called over her shoulder.

“No fair, I wanted to sit by him,” the other pouted.

Louis rolled his eyes, but grinned. “You can both sit by him, ok?”

The girls cheered, pulling out a bench that ran along one side of the table. They saved a seat for Harry in the middle. Harry grinned back at Louis. “Well, I have a seat. Guess you’re on your own.”

Louis ran a playful hand through Harry’s messy curls in response. “Go ahead, you charmer. And good luck—they’re little devils.”

Harry smiled dazedly at the sensation of his hair being tousled and shrugged. “I like a challenge.”

Lottie snickered as she got up from the recliner. “Famous last words.” She winked at Harry as she took a seat across from the twins at the table.

Harry slid onto the bench between Daisy and Phoebe, and Jay began carrying dishes to the table. Harry’s stomach growled appreciatively, and the girls giggled. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

Dinner turned out to be a rowdy but fun event with the Tomlinsons. Amidst the chaos of her four children passing dishes around and chatting, Jay tried to get to know Harry. Most of the time, they got interrupted by someone needing their chicken cut into pieces or extra dinner rolls, but Harry realized he was having a good time. At one point, he looked across the table to find Louis watching him with a soft smile. Harry smiled back, amazed he was really here.

“Oh god,” Lottie said, rolling her eyes. “They’re grinning at each other like idiots.”

Harry blushed and ducked his head. He couldn’t stop smiling, though.

“Is that your Harry smile, Louis?” Daisy asked innocently.

Everyone at the table laughed, including Louis. “Yes, Daze,” he sighed. “I guess it is.”

“It’s cute,” Phoebe piped up beside Harry.

Louis caught Harry’s eye again and winked. Harry felt warm to his core, and included. He wasn’t used to being welcomed into a large group, besides the Journal at school. It felt nice, Harry realized—like home.

After dinner, Harry and Louis helped with the dishes and insisted Jay take a few minutes to relax with the girls. By the time the dishes were washed and dried, and the kitchen was tidy, they tiptoed out to the quiet living room to find the twins dozing on either side of Jay. Louis helped Harry with his coat and grabbed his bag to take him home. Jay held up a hand and carefully extracted herself from the snoozing girls. She met Harry at the door, and offered him a hug.

“Come back anytime, dear,” she whispered as she enveloped Harry in a hug. “I’m so glad Louis has you.”

Harry hugged her back, and whispered, “So am I.”

Jay excused herself to go put the twins to bed, and Louis led Harry out to a well-worn Honda in the driveway. “It’s late; I’ll just drive you, if that’s ok?” he asked. Harry nodded enthusiastically, glad to not be walking for once. They piled into the car, and Louis cranked up the heat, until eventually they couldn’t see their breath from the cold. Harry relaxed back against the seat, thinking over all that happened today.

“Ok?” Louis asked, glancing over at Harry.

Harry nodded sleepily. “More than ok. I had a great day, Louis.”

Louis smiled as he watched the road ahead. “So did I. And I have a feeling mom and the girls will want to see you again soon.”

Harry smiled as hope blossomed inside him. “I’d like that.” _And I love you,_ he thought drowsily.

They pulled up to Harry’s driveway before Harry expected it. Suddenly, he didn’t want to leave Louis yet. But it was getting late, and they had school the next day.

As if reading his mind, Louis yawned and said, “Time for bed, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He put the car in park and leaned across the console to place a soft kiss on Harry’s cheek.

“Thanks for dinner, Lou,” Harry smiled in the darkness. “I had fun.”

“Me too, Harry. Sweet dreams.”

Harry slowly got out of the car and headed to the door. He turned and waved at Louis, who waved back and drove off into the night. By the time he had showered and put his phone on the charger, Harry was dead tired. He intended to stay awake and think about everything that happened that day, but his eyelids were heavy. Just before he drifted off to sleep, a text dinged in his dark bedroom. Harry reached for his phone and smiled, knowing it was from Louis. He read the message, and then went to bed with a smile on his face and so, so much love in his heart. The message was simple, but just what Harry needed to hear.

_I’m so glad I found you._

_*_

The rest of the week passed in a bit of a blur for Harry. He had the photos for the Journal to finish, and final exams to study for, and above all, a senior project to complete. The long hours in the darkroom and sitting in class were punctuated by Louis. Whether it was a simple text to say “how are you?” or a dinner break in the photo lab, it meant the world to Harry. Louis had his own stress to manage that week; he was meeting with recruiters from the colleges he was considering, on top of schoolwork and finishing his editorial for the Journal. When asked what he was writing about, Louis just offered an enigmatic smile and shrugged. Clearly, it was going to be a surprise.

Harry completed the Journal photos for Professor James by Wednesday, their unofficial deadline, and sighed in relief. He barely saw Perrie outside of class, and missed her terribly. Luckily, she was spending her free time with Niall, and Harry couldn’t be happier for her. In the meantime, Harry finished the photos of Niall and Zayn’s life stories. Now he just had to select which ones to submit. On Thursday, Harry developed the roll he took with Liam delivering gift baskets for Jackson’s less fortunate, and he got a good start on Louis’ photos. By Friday, Harry was dead on his feet.

He met Louis in the halls at the final bell on Friday. To his dismay, Louis looked as tired as Harry felt. Dark circles shadowed his pretty blue eyes, and he looked pale in the lights of the hallway. Harry knew he looked no better; his curls were in desperate need of a cut, and he looked like a zombie from lack of sleep and pure exhaustion. Harry could see Louis’ backpack was full of textbooks and assignments for the weekend, and felt a pang of sympathy. They had planned to go to dinner tonight, the double date Perrie had been dreaming about all week, but Harry took one look at Louis and pulled out his phone to cancel.

“Nap?” he simply asked as Louis approached him in the busy halls.

“God bless you, Harry Styles,” Louis said by way of greeting. He yawned and smiled.

“Let’s go to my place,” Harry suggested, offering a hand to Louis. Maybe he was sleep deprived, or maybe he had finally learned not to care what others thought about him; Harry didn’t know which. But Louis smiled tiredly and laced his fingers with Harry’s for the long walk home.

They were freezing by the time they stumbled into Harry’s house, and they dropped their coats and bags in the entryway. Harry led Louis up to his room. While he hunted for extra blankets, Louis walked around Harry’s room, taking it all in. Harry stepped out to the linen closet to find a warm quilt, and when he returned, Louis faced him holding a ticket stub.

“Did you go to this concert?” Louis asked. Harry stepped closer and saw it was the ticket from his Script concert.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. “It was great.”

“I know,” Louis smiled knowingly. “I was there, too.”

“No way!” Harry exclaimed. “I didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t see you, either,” Louis admitted. “But it was fun.”

“What are the odds?” Harry asked, as butterflies came alive in his stomach.

“Right?” Louis asked around a yawn.

Harry carefully took the ticket from Louis and set it aside. “Bed,” he said, leading Louis toward Harry’s bed.

“Bossy,” Louis mumbled, letting himself be led.

“Get used to it,” Harry quipped, rubbing Louis’ back for a moment.

“Are you setting an alarm?” Louis asked, climbing onto the bed and under the quilt.

“Nope. We’re going to sleep as long as we want, and then we’re making pizzas for dinner.”

“That sounds perfect,” Louis sighed happily. “Come here.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of Louis in his bed, opening his arms for a cuddle. He felt suddenly shy as he climbed into the bed and curled up to Louis. For a moment, they lay face to face, heads on the same pillow.

“There’s my boy,” Louis murmured, eyes scanning Harry’s face. “Have I told you today how lovely you are?”

“You just did,” Harry smiled, blushing faintly.

Louis leaned closer, dropping a soft kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose. “Lovely,” he said again. “Turn, please.”

Harry thought about talking back, but he was too tired. He turned around in the bed until his back was flush against Louis’ chest. Louis nuzzled into Harry’s curls and draped an arm over his side. Harry wiggled back a little, until he felt completely enveloped by Louis. Then, finally, he could rest.

“When does your mom get home?” Louis asked, slurring a little from exhaustion.

“Um…eight,” Harry replied.

He felt rather than saw Louis nod in approval. “Good. Now sleep, baby.”

Harry felt his cheeks flush at the term of endearment. It was his second favorite one, and he wondered if he would ever get used to Louis saying it without blushing. Probably not. As he drifted off to sleep, warm under the quilt and next to Louis, Harry imagined a future where Louis still found ways to make him blush. The possibilities were endless, and Harry was secretly looking forward to each one.

*

Waking up next to Louis, Harry discovered that afternoon, was an event. The last time they had done this, they had been on a time frame and somewhat rushed. But there was no rush today. Harry awoke slowly, taking stock of where he ended up this time. He found himself on his back, with a still-sleeping Louis curled up with his head on Harry’s chest. Stray strands of his hair tickled Harry’s nose, and he felt Louis’ warm breath on his chest. He drowsily curled a hand around one of Louis’ delicate shoulder blades, just holding him. Louis stirred, but didn’t wake. Harry lost track of time as he lay there, mesmerized by the slow, steady inhale and exhale of Louis’ breath. At one point, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of Louis’ head. He stroked his fingers up and down the plane of Louis’ back, feeling each knob of his spine. Louis sighed and stirred then. Harry could tell the moment his breathing changed, signaling he was waking up. He stroked a hand through Louis’ soft, soft hair, tenderly scratching his scalp.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop,” Louis grumbled sleepily.

“Feel good?” Harry asked, trailing his hand down from Louis’ hair to the sensitive nape of his neck.

“Mmm,” Louis replied softly. “So good.”

Harry suspected Louis didn’t mean that in a sexual sense, but his cock stiffened a little at the dreamy sound of Louis’ voice. There was silence then for a few moments as Louis slowly woke up. Harry could feel his long lashes blinking against his collarbone.

“Precious when you sleep, Lou,” Harry murmured against Louis’ hair. He felt Louis smile against his chest.

“No one’s called me that before,” Louis admitted with a small yawn. He curled a slender hand up around Harry’s neck, feeling his pulse thump through the warm skin there. Louis placed a kiss against Harry’s chest, lips lingering a moment. In the quiet of Harry’s bedroom, with just Louis, he had never felt so cherished. He wanted to take a picture of that moment and keep it forever.

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asked softly, fingers tracing the curve of Harry’s neck.

Harry smiled, although Louis couldn’t see it. “Thinking I want to take a picture and live in it forever.”

Louis laughed softly. “Sounds nice. I don’t want to get up, ever.”

Harry sighed. “Me neither. But we have to eat eventually. And I was thinking…” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Louis asked.

“Maybe we could take a hot shower? You know…to help us wake up,” Harry said with a grin.

Louis propped his chin on Harry’s chest and met his eyes. “Uh huh. Wake up. Right.”

“And you know,” Harry continued with a grin, “if we happen to get each other off, it was probably meant to be.”

Louis’ face bloomed into a fond smile, and it took Harry’s breath away. “I see. Well, who am I to question fate?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Harry replied, patting Louis on the back. “Fate.”

Louis rolled his eyes and placed a tiny kiss to Harry’s chin. “Ok. You had me at hot shower. Let’s go.”

Slowly, they sat up and pushed the quilt aside. “Have you ever done this, Harry?” Louis asked curiously.

“Um, no,” Harry admitted shyly, ducking his head.

“I’m getting another first?” Louis asked, lacing his fingers with Harry’s.

“You’re getting all the firsts,” Harry mumbled, cheeks tinged pink.

“Well then,” Louis said with a soft smile, tilting Harry’s chin up to meet his eyes. “Let’s make the most of them.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s lips, then smiled.

“Ok,” Harry whispered, smiling back. He led Louis across the hall to the shower and locked the door. Harry turned on the tap, letting the shower heat up before they stepped inside. Louis was there in a second, pressing Harry carefully against the door and framing his face with careful hands.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he said, smiling fondly. “Let me take care of you.”

Harry bit his lip and nodded, then let Louis slowly peel off his sweater and drop it to the floor. As steam filled the room, and clothes slowly dropped to the floor; as Louis led Harry by the hand into the perfectly hot shower and traced every inch of him with warm, soapy hands, pausing every now and then for a toe-curling kiss, Harry’s mind was a constant loop of one thought: _I love you._ And with every touch and caress, Louis’ body said it right back.

*

By the time Anne got home, Harry and Louis had prepared the pizzas and were waiting for them to bake. She walked in to find them sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Harry?” she called, stepping into the living room.

“Hey, mom!” Harry replied, turning to face her.

“Hi, dear. Who’s this, now?” Anne asked, waving uncertainly at Louis.

“Oh, mom,” Harry said, scrambling to rise from the couch. “This is Louis, my…um. Louis,” Harry fumbled. Beside him, Louis grinned and stood, offering Anne a hand.

“Louis Tomlinson, ma’am. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Styles,” he said with a smile.

“So nice to meet you, Louis,” Anne said. “Please call me Anne.”

Louis nodded and followed Harry into the kitchen. “We made an extra for you, mom, extra cheese like you like,” Harry said, pointing to the oven.

“Oh, how nice, Harry. Thank you,” she replied, curling an arm around Harry’s shoulder proudly. She turned to face Louis and winked. “He used to be my little helper in the kitchen,” she stage whispered.

Louis broke into a grin. “That right? Aww, Harry,” he sang. “That’s sweet.”

“Mom,” Harry grumbled, hiding his face in her sweater. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Anne laughed. “Sorry, honey. It’s just not every day you bring a boy home! And so handsome, too!” Anne exclaimed.

Louis blushed a pretty pink in the kitchen light. He wiggled his eyebrows at Harry amusedly. Harry rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“Well,” Anne said with a yawn. “It’s been a long day, boys. I think I’ll get ready for bed. It’s kind of late; are you staying tonight, Louis?”

Louis looked at Harry, who looked back with a shrug. “Up to you,” Harry said.

“Let me just text my mom I’m staying,” Louis said, pulling out his phone. “As long as that’s ok with you, Anne?”

Anne smiled easily. “Of course, dear. Harry, may I have a word, please?”

Louis walked into the living room to text Jay, and to give them privacy. When he was out of sight, Anne turned to Harry with a knowing smile.

“So,” she said, grinning as she crossed her arms. “Your Louis, huh?”

Harry ducked his head and grinned. “Yeah.”

“He seems sweet,” Anne offered, peering over Harry’s shoulder towards the living room. “As long as he makes you happy, that’s all that matters.”

“He, um. Makes me really happy,” Harry mumbled, chancing a look at his mother’s face. She smiled fondly.

“Oh, baby. You’re all grown up!” she whispered, opening her arms for a hug. Harry grinned lopsidedly and leaned into her arms. That’s how Louis found them a moment later. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, offering Harry a warm smile.

“She says it’s ok,” Louis said, gesturing to his phone.

“That’s settled then,” Anne said, clapping her hands once. “Make yourself at home, Louis.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, smiling shyly.

“And I’m headed to bed, I think,” she said, winking at Harry. “Have a good night, boys.”

“Night, mom,” Harry replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

With that, Anne headed towards the stairs. She smiled over her shoulder at Louis and gave a little wave. Louis waved back, and then she was gone. Left alone in the kitchen, Louis turned to face Harry. Harry was struck by how much had changed since the last time he and Louis stood in this kitchen. It had only been a couple weeks, but now they were…what were they?

“So,” Louis said with a grin. “I’m your Louis?”

Harry bit back a grin. “You are, yeah. Is that ok?”

Louis’ smile softened. “Of course, Harry. Only, how do you feel about something a little more official?”

“Like what?” Harry asked.

Louis took a few steps closer. He reached out his hands for Harry’s, who gladly laced their fingers together. Louis shrugged with a playful smile. “How does boyfriend sound?”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He blinked once, twice. “Really?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yes, really, you goober.”

“I…yes. Please,” Harry said, smiling shyly.

“Ok…boyfriend,” Louis said with a wink. He dropped a kiss on Harry’s cheek.

“Boyfriend,” Harry whispered with a smile, looking down at his feet. “Ok.”

Louis tilted Harry’s chin up until they were looking into each other’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and just then, the oven timer beeped. Louis frowned and looked over his shoulder towards the oven, where their pizzas were simmering. He sighed.

“What were you going to say?” Harry whispered. “Don’t say ‘nothing’.”

Louis turned back to Harry with a fond smile. “Fine. I was going to say, you’re actually my first. Boyfriend, I mean.”

Harry’s smile widened. “You’re mine, too.”

“First and last, too, if I have my way,” Louis said, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Deal,” Harry whispered, butterflies in his stomach. Behind him, the oven timer continued to beep. He sighed and stepped away from Louis to turn off the timer and open the oven.

“Still thinking about those alternate universes?” Harry teased, grabbing a pot holder.

“All the time,” Louis sighed with a rueful smile. “Why?”

“What are we doing right now in another universe?” Harry asked.

Louis thought for a second. “Hmm,” he mused. “Tonight, I don’t really care.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked, carefully pulling the pizzas out of the oven.

“Because I’m exactly where I want to be,” Louis said softly. “Here, with you.”

Harry set down the pizzas and turned with a giddy smile. “So am I.” _And I love you,_ Harry thought. But somehow the timing wasn’t right. Not yet.

Louis opened his mouth to reply, and his stomach growled loudly. He blushed faintly and shook his head. “Well, then. Guess we better eat.”

Harry grinned and grabbed a pizza cutter. “Want to watch a movie while we eat?”

“Sure. What did you have in mind?” Louis asked.

Harry grinned as he grabbed two plates and some napkins. “Well…I have _Mean Girls._ If you want.”

“Um, yeah! ‘Is butter a carb?’” Louis asked with a grin.

Harry was definitely in love. He led Louis into the living room with several slices of pizza, and he agreed with Louis—they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

*

Saturday, after sleeping in together and making bacon and eggs for breakfast, Harry and Louis had to go their separate ways. Louis had to babysit his sisters and work on his editorial for the Journal, so after a gentle kiss goodbye, he went home. Harry, meanwhile, bundled up for the long walk to school to finish his senior project prints.

Harry reflected on all the changes in his life as he walked. It would soon be Christmas of his senior year, and his project would be turned into the scholarship committee. He had great new friends and a job he loved at the Jackson Journal. And perhaps, most amazingly, he had a boyfriend.

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s boyfriend.

Harry couldn’t believe it. In the movie of his life, this was the part where Etta James began to sing “At Last” and flowers were blooming all around. Never mind that it was December in Jackson and instead of spring flowers, the sky was heavy with dark clouds that threatened snow. Harry sighed, and his breath made a little cloud in the freezing air. He didn’t care if it did snow, or even if a blizzard came. He was in love, and loved, even if they hadn’t said it yet. So Harry was content.

In the photography lab, Harry got right to work making prints of Louis and Liam’s photo shoots. Since it was a Saturday, not only the lab but also the school was deserted. So Harry cranked up a Queen greatest hits album and rolled up his sleeves.

He chose one negative to start with, which showed a friendly, smiling Liam holding out a holiday basket to one of Jackson’s residents. It was just a basket of canned goods and a few gifts, but the look on the woman’s face was priceless. She was equal parts amazed and grateful, her smile a little teary as she accepted the gift. Harry remembered this part of the day well. The woman barely had a roof over her head, but invited Liam and Harry in for a cup of hot chocolate. Harry might have hesitated had he been alone, but with Liam, Harry entered the woman’s small house and sat down on a sagging couch. Moments later, the woman appeared with steaming chipped mugs of hot chocolate for them, and they sat and chatted with her for several minutes. Her name was Lucy, and she was in between jobs. With no income at Christmas, she admitted she was afraid there would be no gifts for her children that year. She thanked Liam profusely, and offered them both hugs in farewell. Harry would remember that day forever.

Harry enlarged the print onto photo paper and then carefully placed in in the first tray of developing solution to soak. Freddie Mercury was singing “All you have to do is fall in love, play the game,” as Harry set the timer. A check of his phone showed one new message from Perrie. Harry smiled. It seemed curiosity had gotten the best of her.

_What did you guys do last night instead of dinner with us?_

Harry smiled at the memory of standing in a steamy shower with Louis, tracing the planes of his body in awe. His fingertips tingled at the memory. Harry debated telling Perrie this in text form, though. He felt like he and Louis had been living in a secret cocoon of happiness, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for the world to know it yet. Harry thought for a moment, then typed a quick message before setting his phone down.

_Decided to be boyfriends. Tell you later, promise :)_

When the timer went off, Harry moved the print to the second tray in his neat row of trays. Then he went back to the enlarger to work on a print of Louis. It was one of Harry’s favorites: it showed Louis, still in his dress clothes and shoes from the dance, playing with a soccer ball on the deserted field at midnight. Harry’s photos didn’t have to have captions or descriptions, but he would probably call this one “Midnight Memories.”

Harry enlarged the negative and created a print, focusing the beam of light onto the paper to create the right balance of contrast. Slowly, the photo bloomed to life before his eyes. Harry smiled and carried it to the first tray of solution. Then it was time to move his print of Liam into the next tray. Harry worked like that, enlarging prints and moving them from tray to tray, until his back ached and he realized he was hungry. A glance at his phone showed it was already 1 p.m.

Satisfied with the progress he had made this morning, Harry rummaged through his bag for a snack. He came up with a banana and a package of shelled pistachios, and decided that would be lunch. He sat down on the old couch in the lab while he ate, flicking through his Instagram feed. He saw that Perrie had added a photo of her and Niall, sitting in a booth at Mary’s with plates full of food on the table. The caption read “He had me at cheeseburger.” Harry grinned and liked the photo. Just then, Perrie responded to his earlier text.

_Harry Styles. You have some explaining to do. Come over later?_

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the lab, where he still had hours of work to do. Hanging out with Perrie might be a welcome break later on, though.

_Wouldn’t miss it,_ Harry replied. Truth be told, he’d been so busy lately, he hadn’t spent much time with his best friend. Harry intended to remedy that. Finishing his snack, Harry stood and stretched, then headed back to the enlarger machine to work. There were still miles to go before he could sleep.

*

By the time Harry neatly clipped his finished photos to the clothesline in the lab to dry, and cleaned up his workspace, some Perrie time was exactly what he needed. He packed up his bag, buttoned his coat, and walked out into the cold Jackson night towards her house. His phone rang as he was trudging down the sidewalk, and he knew it was Louis. His ringtone, “Faithfully,” by Journey, was hard to miss. Harry grinned and answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Harry!” Louis greeted. In the background, Harry could hear a chorus of “Hey, Harry,” from Louis’ sisters.

“Hey! How’s the editorial going?” Harry asked.

Louis sighed over the phone. “Going, I guess. We’ve been having a _Legally Blonde_ marathon, though, so you can imagine…” he trailed off.

Harry grinned. “Sounds like a good day.”

“Not bad,” Louis replied. “Sorry, I didn’t need anything, if you’re busy. Just wanted to say hello.”

Harry felt warm at that admission. Louis had been thinking about him? Harry wasn’t used to that. But it was nice.

“Don’t worry; I’m done for the night. Headed to Perrie’s, actually,” Harry said.

“Oh, fun!” Louis exclaimed. “Well, you deserve a break. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, then.”

“Thanks for calling, Lou,” Harry replied, feeling warm to the core despite the arctic temperatures.

“Of course, sunshine. Anytime,” Louis said, and Harry could feel his smile down the line. They said goodbye, and Harry was so distracted with daydreaming, he almost walked past Perrie’s house. When he knocked on the door, Perrie answered with an amused smile.

“Your Louis smile? Again?” she teased, letting Harry in from the cold.

Harry shrugged, unable to help it. He just felt so warm and happy. Perrie rolled her eyes, but her smile was soft.

“Come in, then. Spill the beans already,” she grinned.

Harry realized, as he was taking off his coat in the familiar entryway, that maybe he was ready to tell Perrie everything. There was too much love in his heart to keep it to himself.

*

An hour later, camped out on Perrie’s bed with junk food and E! on for television, Harry knew he had made the right decision. He had told Perrie all about his naps with Louis, giving just enough detail for her to draw her own conclusions without having to spell it out for her. Perrie buried her face into a nearby pillow and screamed. When she reemerged, she was grinning.

“Harry,” she sang.

“Perrie.”

“You’re not a blushing virgin anymore, Harry! This is big!” she exclaimed.

Harry, of course, blushed. “Well, technically…” he began, then couldn’t continue. It was too much.

“Ok, maybe I spoke too soon,” Perrie quipped, scanning Harry’s flushed face. “But still. I’m so happy for you, H.”

Perrie took a sip of Diet Dr. Pepper and wrinkled her nose. “This is gross.”

“Why are you drinking that stuff, anyway?” Harry asked, frowning.

“Well,” Perrie began, biting her lip, “it’s just, I’ve been hanging out with Niall a lot, as you know. And we always end up eating,” she explained. Harry nodded for her to continue.

“And, um. I’m kind of like, gaining some weight.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I couldn’t tell.”

Perrie smiled ruefully. “Thank you. But it’s embarrassing. I can’t fit into my jeans!”

“Aww, Perrie,” Harry said, reaching for a regular soda. “I’m sure Niall will still be crazy about you, whatever you weigh.”

“That’s what he says!” Perrie exclaimed.

“Well, there you go. He’s a keeper. Now,” Harry said, handing her a regular Coke. “Drink this; you’ll feel better.”

Perrie bit her lip, contemplating, then reached for the soda with a sigh. “He actually told me, even if I weighed 500 pounds, that then there would just be more of me to love.”

Harry grinned. “I knew I liked him.”

Perrie ducked her head and smiled. “Yeah, I do, too.”

“So we all live happily ever after?” Harry asked, reaching for a chocolate chip cookie.

“Well…until college,” Perrie said with a slight frown. “Where are you and Louis going?”

Harry hung his head. “I don’t know. Um. I mean, he knows where he wants to go, and so do I, but…we haven’t talked about it.”

“Oh, Harry. I’m sure you’ll work it out. Do you want to stay together?”

Harry’s head snapped up. “More than anything.”

Perrie smiled. “Then you will.”

“Easy as that, huh?” Harry asked.

“True love always wins, Harry,” Perrie said with a mysterious smile. “Wait and see. Now,” she said, suddenly all business. “Tell me more about these ‘naps’.”

Harry grinned. “I guess you could say that I’m the little spoon.”

*

Monday morning, Professor James announced the Christmas issue would go to print on Thursday of that week. She was dressed in a festive sweater with Christmas trees stitched on it, and her glasses were red and green this week. Harry sighed in relief, as this assignment was already finished, but he spared a thought for Louis. He was still refusing to let Harry read his editorial, claiming it would be a surprise, so Harry had no idea how it was going. In fact, Harry realized, looking around the classroom, Louis wasn’t even there. Harry discreetly checked his phone and saw no new messages. He was still frowning when Zayn caught his eye and whispered his name.

“Hey, Harry. How did the photos turn out?” Zayn asked.

“Ok, I think,” Harry said. “How’s your story going?”

Zayn shrugged good-naturedly. “Good, I guess. Oh, I was going to tell you,” he said, lowering his voice. “I worked with Louis a little last week. He had some questions about the piece he was writing.”

Harry’s eyes widened. Maybe he would finally get a hint as to what Louis was writing. “What’s he doing?” Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

Zayn’s dark eyes sparkled. “That, I can’t tell you,” he replied. “But it’s good.”

Harry sighed. “You can’t give me even a little hint? I won’t tell anyone,” Harry promised.

“He said you might try that,” Zayn mused. “But no, Harry. Sorry. I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine. Guess I’ll just wait and be surprised.”

“That’s the spirit,” Zayn replied with a placid smile. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

“High school might actually kill me,” Harry lamented.

“Oh, Harry,” Zayn said, shaking his head. “The best is yet to come.”

*

That night, Harry took a break from the photography lab to make dinner with his mom. They chatted in the kitchen together as they made fettucine with homemade alfredo sauce, Anne’s favorite. While Harry filled her in on how his senior project was going, he also whipped up a pan of brownies. It had been a while since he got to hang out with his mom, and Harry realized with a pang to his heart that there wouldn’t be many more nights like this until he graduated. After dinner, they took the pan of brownies and two forks to the living room to watch reruns of “What Not to Wear” and just relax. They were halfway into an episode when out of the blue, the doorbell rang.

Harry turned to face Anne, a perplexed frown on his face. “Were you expecting someone?” he asked. Anne shrugged and shook her head. Harry stood and went to the door. He froze when he looked out the peephole and found Louis standing on the welcome mat. He hadn’t seen Louis all day, had no idea what he was up to, even. Harry swung open the door.

“Lou?” he asked, smiling confusedly. “What’s going on?”

Louis looked up to meet Harry’s eyes, and Harry had never seen him look so serious. “We need to talk, Harry,” he said, biting his lip.

As if on autopilot, Harry stepped aside to let Louis in. He made some kind of excuse to Anne, and led Louis up to his bedroom, all the while thinking, _this is it. He’s breaking up with me._

Harry shut his door behind Louis and sat down on his bed before he collapsed. When he chanced a look at Louis, Harry realized Louis was paler than he’d ever seen.

“What, um. What’s wrong?” Harry asked, bracing himself for the blow. He should’ve known this wasn’t meant to last; the nerd and the captain of the soccer team, together? What was Harry thinking?

“I, um. Have good news and bad news,” Louis replied nervously, staring at his shoes. “Wanted to tell you first.”

“Ok?” Harry said. “What’s the good news?”

“The good news is, I got into the college I wanted,” Louis said, letting out a deep breath.

“Louis, that’s great,” Harry murmured, totally confused. “So what’s the bad news?”

“I…got into the college I wanted,” Louis said, hanging his head. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry frowned, completely out of his depth. “I…don’t understand.”

Louis sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and began pacing. “I’m going to New York, Harry. I know it’s the right choice, and the right school for me, but…it’s so far away.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Where in New York?” he asked curiously.

“Syracuse,” Louis relied, pacing distractedly. “And it’s so far…don’t know how this is going to work…what were you thinking, Lewis,” he mumbled.

Harry’s face softened into a smile. “Louis.”

“And now I’ll never see you, and we’ll end up thousands of miles apart, and…”

“Louis.”

“And I haven’t even told my mom, yet, Harry; I came straight here…”

“ _Louis.”_

Louis paused his pacing at Harry’s urgent tone, turning slowly to face him. “Huh?”

“Lou,” Harry said, softer now. “How long have you been stressing over this?”

“Two hours,” Louis mumbled, burying his face in his hands.

“Lou,” Harry said with a sigh, standing to meet Louis in the middle of his room. Slowly, he cradled Louis’ hands in his and lowered them from Louis’ distraught face. When they were finally seeing eye to eye, Harry spoke.

“I need you to listen now, ok Lou?” he said slowly. Louis nodded, still frowning uncertainly.

“Good. Now. What I was going to say was, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“But—“ Louis began in protest. Harry shook his head and held up a hand.

“No, Louis. Nothing to worry about, _because_ we won’t even be that far.”

Louis frowned deeper, blue eyes confused.

“Louis,” Harry sighed. “If I get into the school I want, I’ll be in Rochester.”

Louis blinked once, twice. “Ok?”

Harry rolled his eyes, grinning. “Louis! Rochester is in New York.”

Harry could see the moment everything clicked for Louis. His face relaxed into a hopeful smile, and his shoulders released their tension.

“You mean…?” Louis asked.

“We’ll be in the same state,” Harry confirmed with a small smile.

Louis’ face bloomed into a smile. “Harry. _Harry,_ oh my god. This is…I can’t believe…”

Harry placed a delicate kiss on Louis’ forehead. “It’ll all work out, Lou. You’ll see.”

“I need to…hold on,” Louis said shakily. He sank down onto the edge of Harry’s bed. “You’re saying, we’ll both be in New York?”

Harry nodded, smiling serenely. “Yep.”

Louis ran a hand over his face and let out a sigh. “I almost had a heart attack, Harry.”

Harry sat down next to Louis, and rubbed a comforting hand across his back. “Yes, you did.”

Louis turned to face Harry, and his expression softened. “I guess I overreacted,” he said, smiling ruefully. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok, Lou,” Harry said, curling a warm hand around the back of Louis’ neck. “We should have talked about this before.”

“Man,” Louis said, nodding solemnly. “Yes, we should have. Fuck.”

“Stress is a killer, Louis,” Harry said wisely. He placed a kiss on Louis’ temple. “Breathe.”

“So I just burst in here, freaking out,” Louis began with an embarrassed laugh.

“…making me think we were breaking up,” Harry added, poking Louis in the side.

Louis turned to face Harry with wide eyes. “Oh my god. Harry, I never…I wouldn’t.”

Harry smiled a little sadly. “I just figured, you know. He’s come to his senses, finally.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. “Harry,” he breathed.

“I mean, you’re everything, Louis,” Harry said, looking at his hands. “And I’m just…me.”

“Harry Styles,” Louis said quietly. “You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’re my first thought of the day, and my last. You’re the quiet in the middle of my hurricane of a life. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. And I don’t deserve you. You’re not nothing. I see you, remember?” he asked.

Harry looked up, eyes brimming with tears, to see the same emotion playing out on Louis’ face. “You see me,” Harry whispered.

“And I always will,” Louis said, smiling through his tears.

Harry blinked, and a fat tear rolled down his cheek. Louis brushed it aside with a gentle thumb. Harry didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly, he was wrapped in Louis’ arms. He buried his face in Louis’ neck, breathing him in, and for the first time all day, Harry let it go—the stress of his senior project, the sadness at leaving his mom soon, the anxiety of high school—just let it go. He hugged Louis tightly, and vowed he would never let him go. They sat locked together like that for several moments, until finally Louis pulled back a little to wipe his eyes.

“Shit, sorry. I cried all over your sweater.”

Harry smiled and sniffled a little. “That’s ok. Look at yours.”

Louis raised his eyebrows and looked down at the neckline of his sweater, where it was currently soaked with tears. His eyes raised back up to meet Harry’s.

“I made you cry. I’m so sorry.” Louis tenderly wiped Harry’s tear-stained cheeks with the sleeves of his sweater.

“You didn’t even wear a coat?” Harry asked, fussing over Louis a little.

Louis laughed quietly. “Oops.”

“The last time you said that, I walked away with a mild concussion,” Harry quipped.

Louis grinned and ducked his head. “Sorry, Curly.”

Harry nudged Louis with his shoulder. “And look at us now.”

Louis met Harry’s eyes with a wry smile. “Crying on each other on a Monday night.”

“Hey, there’s no place I’d rather be,” Harry said, running a soothing hand through Louis’ hair.

“Me neither,” Louis admitted, leaning into the simple touch. “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s in Rochester, New York?”

Harry’s smile widened. “Rochester Institute of Technology. One of the best photography programs around…if I make it.”

“You’ll make it,” Louis said, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

Harry leaned his head against Louis’ shoulder. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Louis said, dropping a soft kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“Do you need to go talk to your mom?” Harry asked.

Louis sighed. “She’s probably wondering where I am,” he admitted, leaning his head against Harry’s. “Just a minute, though, ok?” he asked, hugging Harry to his side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry said, and he realized it was a promise he intended to keep. He snuggled closer to Louis, overwhelmed by a feeling of calm. What had Louis called it? The quiet in the middle of a hurricane? For now, Harry guessed, that’s where they were. And they would make it through together.

*

On Thursday, the Christmas issue of the Jackson Journal went to print. It contained several photos from the Snow Ball, stories and interviews from students about the dance and family traditions, and a secret editorial by Louis Tomlinson. Harry was dying to read it. Unfortunately, his senior project was due the next day. The heat was on.

Harry got permission to skip his classes that day to devote time to polishing his work in the darkroom. He already had a neat stack of photos ready, and was just finishing up enlarging a few prints in order to be done. Anne had surprised Harry the day before with a professional photography portfolio to display his work in, so that aspect was covered.

Harry was calling his project simply “Stories of Our Lives.” He felt it was fitting, simple, and easy to remember. Hopefully, the scholarship committee would agree. It was that time in the process of a project where people were tempted to rush to the finish, but Harry stayed steady. He took his time, as always, confident it would be done when it was done. He didn’t realize he had worked most of the day until a knock at the doorframe startled him out of his zone.

Louis stood there, holding a fast food bag, smiling. Wordlessly, he stepped into the lab, set the food on a nearby table, and pulled Harry into a hug.

“I smell like chemicals,” Harry warned, wrapping his arms around Louis.

“Good. That means you’re doing great,” Louis said, pulling back to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “Take five to eat?”

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Louis to the table. “Thank you so much.”

Louis grinned and patted Harry on the back. “You’ve been cooped up in here all day; it’s the least I can do.”

Harry sighed wearily. “Almost done, though.” He unwrapped a burger and took a bite.

Louis pulled a stool around for Harry to sit on. “Rest your feet, babe.”

Harry sank down on the stool and nodded. “Didn’t realize I needed that, but I do.”

Louis checked his phone briefly, then pocketed it. “How’s it coming?”

“So close, I can taste it,” Harry said. “How did your editorial turn out?”

Louis shrugged nonchalantly, giving nothing away. “Read it and see.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Oh, I will. I feel like everyone’s read it but me!”

“It’s not that great, just some thoughts,” Louis admitted. “But it was fun to write. Maybe I should’ve tried harder in English class.”

Harry nodded. “I bet you’re a great writer.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Louis shrugged, a secret smile on his lips. “Get enough to eat?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Harry replied, polishing off his burger. “Back to work?”

“Back to work,” Louis confirmed, rubbing a hand across Harry’s back. “Finish up, and then tomorrow we’ll go out, ok?”

Harry perked up at that. “Sounds great. So…I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Louis promised. He pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s forehead. “You can do it.”

With that, Louis gave Harry a wink and walked out of the lab. Alone again, Harry surveyed the mess he had made of the lab. Prints and jugs of chemicals were everywhere, and the trays were a mess. The enlarger had been running so long, Harry worried it would blow up. But he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, so he wearily stood and went back to work.

*

After working in the lab until 1 a.m., Harry was tempted to skip class Friday. But he had a presentation to turn in to Professor Swift, who would pass it on to the scholarship committee. So yawning, Harry threw on some clothes and walked to school. He met the professor before class, finding him sipping a cup of coffee as he perused the Journal.

“Harry! I trust you got some sleep last night?” he asked in greeting.

“Barely,” Harry grinned exhaustedly. “But it’s finished.” Harry carefully pulled out the completed portfolio and handed it to the professor.

Professor Swift smiled and carefully accepted the portfolio. “I’ll make sure this gets to the committee today, Harry. Don’t be alarmed if it’s a few days before you hear back, though,” he warned. “They don’t like to rush through things. But between you and me,” the professor concluded, lowering his voice, “your chances are excellent.”

Harry smiled in relief. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“I’m so proud of all you’ve accomplished this year, Harry. You went above and beyond what was expected, and the committee will take that into account.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Anytime, Harry. Oh, that reminds me,” he said, picking his copy of the Journal up off the table. “I think you’d like to see this.”

Harry took the offered paper with a small frown. “Ok?”

“It seems as if you’re not the only one who went above and beyond the assignment,” the professor concluded with a wink. He waved to Harry in farewell and then went into his office, leaving Harry standing there alone. It took a moment, in his sleep-deprived state, to remember Louis’ article. Harry sat down in the empty classroom and opened the Journal to the editorial page. There, amidst letters to the editor and a few cartoons drawn by Zayn, there was an article with the byline Louis Tomlinson. Harry took a deep breath and began to read.

_My fellow students,_

_Recently, I was given the opportunity to be guest editor of our esteemed Journal. It’s been an honor and a privilege to work with such a dedicated, fun group of students in the process, and I’ve learned a lot._

_I’ve learned that the only way to good work is through hard work, something the staff of our Journal is very familiar with. In the process of my time here, I’ve witnessed true talent at work inside the classroom and out. From Niall, a human ball of sunshine, I’ve learned to treat everyone with kindness and to never be afraid to tell people how you really feel. From Liam, I learned that respect and compassion go a long way. He manages the journal with fairness and enthusiasm, and truly inspired me. And from Zayn, I learned that our greatest asset is our heart._

Harry didn’t realize he was tearing up a little until his eyes swam with tears, blurring the words on the page. He sniffled in the empty classroom and continued reading.

_But this journey wouldn’t have been complete without the help of one student in particular. Before I began this process, I had a very dim understanding of what it means to be an artist. Having spent more time on the soccer field than in the art studio, I was a little out of my depth. Now, having seen a glimpse into that world, I have the utmost respect for the art of photography and the gifted people who call it their craft._

Harry gasped, and his cheeks flushed a deep pink. Surely Louis didn’t mean…? He eagerly read on.

_The student I’m referring to, of course, as many of you have now gotten to know him, is none other than Harry Styles. If you’ve gone all four years here at Jackson High like I had, and never talked to him, you’re missing out. Harry is the embodiment of art, creativity, and heart. His dedication to photography has inspired me in my own world, as an athlete, to strive to do better and work harder. He works tirelessly, and sometimes thanklessly, to achieve great works of art. I’m so thankful for the time I spent observing him work on this Christmas issue, and for his kindness in teaching me about his art. He will forever inspire me to be the best possible version of myself, and I can never thank him enough._

_In conclusion, I want to thank everyone on the Journal staff, including the amazing Professor James, for giving me this opportunity to learn more about my classmates and myself. Going forward, I wish you all a wonderful holiday filled with family, friends, and love—that’s the true meaning of the Christmas spirit, as I now know. Thank you again, and all the best to you, Jackson._

_Sincerely,_

_Louis Tomlinson_

Harry slowly let the newspaper fall to the desk in front of him, in complete shock. He couldn’t believe the things Louis said about him, as an artist and as a person. And for the whole school to see! It was the most sincere gesture anyone had ever made towards him. And those words would stay with him for the rest of his life. As if in a trance, Harry rose from the desk. He walked out of the classroom, into the halls, where his fellow students were talking and reading their own copies of the Journal. He wove through the mass of students, down the hall and around the corner to a set of lockers. His locker. And there, standing anxiously with his hands around his backpack straps, was Louis.

Harry walked slowly, patiently, and was amazed at how quickly he arrived in front of Louis. Louis smiled nervously and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry shook his head.

“Did you mean that? What you said about us? About me?” Harry asked, voice a little wobbly.

Louis’ expression softened, and he bit his lip. “Yes,” he said softly, eyes never wavering from Harry’s. “I did.”

“No one’s ever said anything like that about me before,” Harry breathed.

Louis’ smile was patient as he replied. “Oh, sweetheart. Everyone thinks it though. I just said it, is all.”

For the second time that morning, Harry’s eyes blurred with tears. “But you…I…”

Louis stepped closer, until they stood toe to toe. “Don’t you know, Harry? How I feel about you?”

Harry sucked in a deep breath. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Inside his chest, his heart was pounding like never before.

Louis cupped Harry’s cheek with a gentle hand. “I love you, silly.”

Harry’s jaw dropped, and his cheeks flushed a deep pink. In front of him, Louis’ eyes were confident and clear, without a trace of doubt.

“I. I love you, too,” Harry murmured breathlessly, staring deep into Louis’ eyes.

Louis’ soft smile spread into something beautiful, and it took Harry’s breath away. And suddenly, Harry simply forgot: he forgot he was standing in a crowded hall, with curious eyes on him; he forgot he was in high school, a nobody, unnoticed by most; he forgot the bell had rung and it was time for class. All he could think was _Louis_ and _I love you._

Harry didn’t hesitate; Louis had taught him to be brave. Slowly, he leaned closer and placed a searing kiss on Louis’ lips. Louis responded immediately. He cradled Harry’s face in his hands, kissing him so gently and patiently, Harry thought he might explode into a million pieces. And Louis touched him like he would put every little fragment back together again.

Who knows how long they would have stayed locked together like that, if it wasn’t for the slow but loud sound of applause. It gradually grew louder, into a full crescendo, and Harry broke apart from Louis in alarm. All around him, his classmates were clapping and cheering. He spotted Niall off to the side, and Niall pumped his fist in the air and whistled. Harry turned back to face Louis, completely shocked, to find Louis smiling softly at him. Louis placed one more chaste kiss on his lips, and then stepped back. The second they parted, Harry’s felt Louis’ fingers lace through his own. He blinked in confusion, unable to comprehend what was happening.

As if reading his mind, Louis squeezed his hand. “Ok?”

“Why are they clapping?” Harry murmured in alarm.

Louis grinned, and Harry had never seen him so happy. “Because we’re in love, Harry. And love always wins.”

With that, he led Harry by the hand to his locker to get his books, anxious to start the day. Harry followed easily, gripping Louis’ hand for support. He felt like he was floating. But Harry tried to get a grip; he had classes to get to, and a project to hear back on, and if his memory served correctly, a date tonight with someone he loved to the moon and back. Life was good.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Epilogue

 

Rochester, New York was approximately 88.5 miles from Syracuse by car. It was more than Harry and Louis could’ve hoped for. Neither actually owned a car, but they made it work. Sometimes Harry borrowed his roommate, Nick’s car to go to Louis’ games on the weekends. Other times, Louis would rent a car and spend a long weekend crashing at Harry’s apartment. Naps were taken along the way.

Under the guidance of professionals, Harry’s talent for photography bloomed. He spent hours in the darkroom with other eager classmates, and loved every second of it. His love for 80s music never changed, so many of those hours were spent with Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits. Harry had finally learned how to infuse heart into his photos, just as Professor Swift had challenged him to do back at Jackson High School, and now he could spread his wings and fly.

Louis wasn’t expecting to spend much time on the field his freshman year, but he impressed the coaches so much with his work ethic and skill that he rarely sat on the bench. Nobody was more surprised than Louis when he selected journalism as a major; Harry claimed he saw it coming all along, ever since his now-famous editorial in the Journal. Harry might have had a copy pinned on his refrigerator. What could he say, he was in love.

Niall and Perrie moved to L.A. together and enrolled at UCLA. Perrie borrowed a camera from time to time to keep her basic photography skills up, but she majored in Psychology. Niall, inspired by his time at the Journal, decided to try his hand at Journalism as well. They lived in a tiny one bedroom in the heart of the city with a dog they named Jax.

In the mystery box Harry brought to New York, which Anne had gifted him as a child, there sat one ticket to a Script concert and a photo of Louis and Harry at graduation, taken by Jay. He kept the box on his dresser next to the camera he was finally able to buy from the school, which was still named Cherry. They were his most prized possessions.

Harry and Louis spent the summers when they were free exploring what New York had to offer. They found endless parks and museums to wander through, and Harry took his camera wherever they went. They alternated holidays between Jay and Anne’s house, until they were able to move in together and have a place of their own.

Whenever Harry was feeling down about his projects or the distance between himself and Louis, he would daydream about their alternate universes. In some, they were successful thirty-somethings living in a nice brownstone in New York City. In others, they were twenty-two and barely making rent on a tiny apartment in the city. In all of them, though, there was love. So much love and trust that Harry couldn’t breathe sometimes. So much love that sometimes Harry had to take a step back and look at how far he’d come in just a year. How he had spent so many years coming home alone to an empty house, sure he would never find someone to share his heart with. And then everything just kind of happened: that fateful day he stood in a new classroom clutching a flyer for a photographer, a soccer ball to the head, a night gazing at the stars with someone Harry saw a future unfolding with. He didn’t know how it happened, but he was certain of one thing: he would spend the rest of his life loving Louis. He would always have a darkroom and a fresh roll of film, but now his heart had found its home. And there was so, so much light there now.

 

The End.


End file.
